


DON'T THE WAVES PULL THE SAND? DON'T THE MOON PULL THE TIDES?

by hotel_raleigh



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Poe Dameron, Blow Jobs, Competent Finn (Star Wars), Crying During Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Face-Fucking, Finn's kink is people being nice to him, First Order rom coms, Gay Finn (Star Wars), Hand Jobs, Healing, I will add tags as I go, I would die for rose tico, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Biphobia, Jannah was a therapist in a past life, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oscar isaac's lip bite was a cultural reset, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Post-Canon, Protective Rey (Star Wars), Rimming, Tenderness, abuse of the word 'bud', and for the absolute King known as John Boyega, finally some good fucking communication, finn is my baby, have i mentioned, in this household we hate rian johnson, oh boy, oh my god they were GENERALS, poe is a dramatic bitch, reckoning with trauma, reylos will not like this soz, sucks to your bendemption, the pining, they're gay karen - Freeform, this one's for our lord and savior Oscar isaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotel_raleigh/pseuds/hotel_raleigh
Summary: “I know that this wasn’t,” Finn continued hesitantly, “this wasn’t what you had in mind when you said that.” Poe frowned, confused, and took a sip of his coffee. “But would you—would have sex with me?”Poe choked on his swallow of coffee. His brain shorted out, or something. Flicker, pop, lights out, complete with smoke and smell of burning.“I—you—” he tried, and his voice was high-pitched as it came out. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. Finn was staring at him with big eyes. “You want to have sex with—me?”For complex reasons, Finn wants to lose his virginity. Poe, lovesick and hopeless, agrees to help him out.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 107
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been my quarantine project. It was supposed to be simple, straightforward smut based on some classic tropes but somehow evolved into something more emotional. It was my absolute joy to write.
> 
> Will update when I can, but it will probably not be regular. This is finished, save for a bit of editing, so I won't leave you hanging. Title from "Use Me" by Miguel, which I listened to on repeat as I wrote the forthcoming sex scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 9/12/20: formatting issues

Finn had seen movies. He knew how these things went. The girl and the boy meet, and they bicker, and they fall in love, and it is sealed with a kiss.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that the movies he’d watched growing up were slightly different than what Outsiders watched growing up, mostly thanks to Poe, who’d made some slightly horrified faces as Finn had described the plot of “The Emperor’s Concubine.”

“It’s pretty cliché, I know, but in the end the breeding pair rides off—”

“I’m sorry, the _what_?”

“The…breeding pair?”

Poe had looked at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“You know, the _couple_ ,” Finn had said, his cheeks heating up as they always did when he stumbled over the differences between Trooper and Outsider culture. It was embarrassing. It made him feel like a freak.

Poe’s eyes had softened.

“Not very romantic,” he’d said softly.

“Of _course_ it’s romantic,” Finn had replied, a little defensive now. “At first, their relationship is just physical, but then they _fall in love_. She is chosen to sit beside him on the throne.”

Poe had smiled then, all crinkly eyes. Finn hadn’t been able to help but smile, too.

In any case, his own big kiss had not gone the way movies had led him to believe. He’d checked off all the boxes: meet-cute, bicker, kiss. And yet. Rose had leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and, instead of fireworks, he’d felt…very little. Very little besides the slow crystallization of an ice-cold certainty in his chest: _he was gay_. Finn hadn’t exactly been unaware of the fact that he wasn’t attracted to women, but he’d not been especially attracted to men at that point, either. As someone who’d had very little sexual experience (read: two desperate frottage sessions with bunkmates, quickly aborted by surprise bed checks), Finn had thought the sheer _novelty_ of the kiss might have kick-started something.

And it had, sort of.

Just not the sort of thing he’d _wanted._ Not that he thought that there was anything wrong with being gay; Finn’s realization wasn’t one fraught with horror and shame. He simply thought that his life would be so much easier if he could just be attracted to women.

It was a thought that had crossed his mind many times while in the First Order, watching propaganda videos about his duty to procreate for the master race. How was he, he’d thought, supposed to do that with a woman? The thought left him cold, while all his squad mates were giggling shrilly whenever Matron wasn’t looking. In the First Order, being gay was very much frowned upon, despite the fact that captains gave subtle suggestions to turn to your bunkmates “if the frustration became too much.” Sex between men was always painted as a stopgap, something dirty and quick—and frequently painful—until you could get to the good stuff. Being straight was simply take as standard, as if it were given out with their white armor and stun-guns. And Finn would have given anything to be more standard.

He’d been holding out hope, for some obscure reason, that he’d turn out to be straight. Why, exactly? It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Poe had sex with men _and_ women. Several people of his acquaintance were gay. He was just having a hard time squaring it with his own identity. The thought throbbed in his mind any moment he stopped to think about it: _I am gay._ Eating a meal in the cafeteria, it suddenly struck him: _I am eating breakfast, and I am gay._ Hanging Poe’s coat on the back of his chair after a long day: _Here I am, hanging my coat up, being gay._ For so long he had tucked all that away, saving it for later, telling himself he was just a late bloomer. No, he realized now. His sexuality had been stulted, purposefully, by the First Order, by the shame and guilt they associated with gay sex. Since puberty, he’d been repressing it. He had been willing his eyes not to linger, not to notice—

And now that he had full permission, it was like something had broken inside his brain. He had spent nearly all of the time between the kiss and the Exegol clusterfuck trying to come to terms with things, and thinking about dick, and it had been _confusing_. It was Rey who had finally shown him how to be at peace with it. She had a way of cutting right through to the heart of things, a clarity of thought that he envied.

They had been sitting in the sun, and she’d leaned back to let it warm her face with a small smile. “You and me,” she’d said, “we’ve been robbed of love and affection our whole lives.” She’d looked at him with clear eyes. “If it’s not hurting anyone, I say we take what joy we can get and run with it as far as we can.”

Something in Finn had blossomed at that, like a flower turning toward the sun. And so it was that he spent the next few weeks in a strange state of open-hearted welcoming, marbled with a pure vein of abject terror. For the most part, he was happily considering sex and relationships, something he’d never really thought he’d get a chance at: he’d let his eyes linger on attractive men, with no plans on following through; he’d touch himself leisurely, pretending his hand was someone else’s, considering what it might feel like; he’d allow himself to imagine some future lover, a luxury he’d never given himself in the past. Sometimes these daydreams went sour and he would find himself in anxious tears, terrified at the idea of letting someone so close to him, terrified at the idea that no one might ever _want_ to be close to him. What if, when they kissed, Finn’s first proper kiss, he was awful and awkward? That was fine for a fourteen-year-old, but for a man in his twenties? Embarrassing. Shameful. He couldn’t do this. He would just go without. He could go without.

***

“Okay,” Snap said, drunk and hazy, “Okay. Craziest place you’ve ever had sex.”

A collective groan.

They were still celebrating their victory against Palpatine and his creepy ghost army. Upon their return to the base, they’d taken a few days to mourn Leia, during which Poe had hardly gotten out of bed. Now, though, the weeks of mounting stress finally having been relieved, everyone wanted to let loose.

Finn had momentarily put the kiss and its consequences out of his mind, but now, sweating bullets next to Poe, they seemed to be back with a vengeance.

Jess, up first, gave a shy smile. “Back of a motorcycle.”

Whoops and shouts from the group. Finn was fidgeting next to Poe.

Wedge took a drink rather than say.

Rey blushed and blurted out, “Desert.”

Finn’s heart was thumping in his ears by the time it was Poe’s turn.

Poe smirked. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He took a drink.

The group erupted, demanding an answer from the most experienced person in the Resistance, but Finn couldn’t join in. He knew that he was next, that he’d be forced to say it, that everyone would know. Another way he was not like the others. Another mark that branded him an outsider. It was one of the last boxes of outward normalcy that he hadn’t been able to check off.

And they wouldn’t make him feel bad about it, in fact he was sure they’d all but attack him with saccharine words of reassurance, or, even worse, patronizing sounds of approval (“You know what, good for you! That takes _guts_.”), but it would still separate him from them. The gulf between him and the rest of the Resistance would widen.

He tried to make light of it. He did. He played it off with jokes, and kept the more sordid bits to himself, but his entire experience of life was alien to everyone Outside. There were some things he couldn’t hide. He just wasn’t _normal_ , and that was all he wanted to be. Every time somebody praised his ‘remarkable courage,’ he could only think one thing: _I would give anything to be unremarkable_. To have been a normal kid. This is all without mentioning the things he’d done, the bloody handprint burned in his mind—an image he’d never shared with anyone.

He had struggled for so many years as a Trooper, performing well but always feeling as though he were faking it, wondering why he couldn’t find the satisfaction that the others felt, wondering why he could hardly bear to look at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t fit there, and he didn’t fit here, either. There were moments, of course, when he felt that he belonged: watching Poe snort with laughter at his General Hux impression as they ate in the canteen, making Rey smile one of her all-too-rare smiles. He was _happy_ here. He just—he was sure that if these people knew him, _really_ knew him, they would be disgusted.

The furor over Poe’s refusal to answer died down. Rey was watching him with worry in her eyes. Everyone turned to look at him. Finn was sure his heart would beat out of his chest. He supposed he could always refuse to answer, and take a drink. But they must _know_. They must _suspect_. What if they accuse him of lying? That would be even _more_ embarrassing. He was starting to panic.

“I haven’t—” he blurted out. “I haven’t actually—had sex.”

Everyone looked shocked, except Rey, his fellow damaged child, with whom he’d shared the most about his childhood.

“Oh,” said Rose.

Finn looked at anyone except Poe. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to see Poe in particular expressing any kind of pity or disdain towards him. Maybe the universe might have mercy on him and let Poe forget this moment in an alcohol-fueled haze.

“Well,” he heard Poe say, “As if we needed any more proof Troopers are blind!”

Everyone laughed at that, even Rey, who was still watching him closely. Finn dared to turn and look at Poe, and was disarmed by the open warmth on his face, tempered with a sort of disbelieving shock. Poe put his arm around Finn, and Finn felt its warm weight drape over him like a blanket, and he started to laugh along with everyone. Pure relief soared through his veins, and he took a long pull of his drink to settle himself. Another embarrassment endured, another hurdle overcome. The world didn’t end. The night went on.

And hours later, Finn was still thinking about that moment, even as he and Poe giggled in a corner over a bottle of vodka.

“Excuse me, _General_?” Finn asked, cackling.

“Yes, _General_?” Poe answered, grinning wildly, eyes shining.

“May I offer you another drink?”

“Ever so kind, General.”

“My _pleasure_ , General.”

They laughed until they were clutching their stomachs in pain. Somehow they had slid to the floor and were lying side by side. Finn gazed up at the stars, and wished this night would last forever. He was so grateful for Poe, for all his friends, but especially Poe. Poe was the _best_.

“You always,” Finn said, with drunken profundity, “You always know just what to say. I mean it. You’re so _cool_.”

Poe snorted. “Shut up, man,” he said, grinning.

“No, no, I’m not—I’m not taking the piss.”

“I’m just full of shit,” Poe said, looking at Finn with a lazy smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

Finn frowned. He didn’t understand.

“You made things better earlier,” he said, for he didn’t know how else to express his thoughts. Poe made things better. End of.

Poe’s face changed to something curious, something searching; his eyes roamed over Finn’s face. Finn was somehow thinking, _Don’t look at me, please stop looking,_ at the same time as, _Keep on looking, never stop looking_. He broke the moment by taking a swig from the bottle. When he put it down again, Poe was looking up at the stars, and Finn felt cold.

“You know,” Poe began, his eyes still on the night sky, his voice rough with sincerity and drink, “there’s no reason to be embarrassed. Seriously.”

Finn stayed quiet.

“It’s like—it’s like—people take different roads, you know? There’s not just one path,” Poe said. “Me, I had sex for the first time when I was sixteen, with a girl who was using me to make her boyfriend jealous. It was awful.”

“That’s _terrible_ ,” Finn said feelingly.

“I got over it, but—I don’t want that for you, buddy. You deserve something nice.”

“How can you tell if it’ll be something nice?”

“Sex is like—it’s like,” Poe said, clearly casting around for an analogy and not finding one. “It’s like a meal. It’s like—if it’s made with love—I don’t—I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Finn blinked.

“It’s best if you,” Poe stumbled here, “if you love them. But, especially if it’s your first time, it’s more important for you to trust them.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“D’you think they’ll look at me differently now?”

Poe made a considering noise. “Nah. No.” He paused. “I get that maybe it feels like something you just want to get rid of, like a fucking hot potato or something, but you should—I already said this—you should do it with someone you trust.”

“You’re a good friend,” Finn said. “You give good advice.”

Poe grinned at him, drunk and fond.

Finn stared up the sky and felt something in his chest settle, if only for the moment.

***

Poe woke up with a headache the size of the fucking Death Star. He staggered to the shower, running his teeth over the sour-sweet film of last night’s vodka-grapefruits and wanting to puke. Brushing his teeth under the hot spray, he nearly choked on his own foamy spit when he remembered the conversation he’d had with Finn.

Finn was—a _virgin_.

The thought came at him like a many-headed creature, too many images and ideas attendant upon it to even count. For one, was everyone around him _blind_? Seriously. He’d known the First Order was fucked up, but the fact that somebody as gorgeous and lovely as Finn went unnoticed seemed a step too far. Poe’s superego, trying to rein in the discussion, butted in here—what did it even matter? Virginity was nothing but an antiquated and inherently meaningless concept. There were so many definitions of sex that Poe wasn’t even sure what Finn had really meant by what he said. Was Poe overreacting to this? Was he being some kind of dirty creep? Possibly. _Very_ possibly, he reflected, particularly in light of the last category of images: _Finn, eyes hooded over with lust, looking up at him, cock hard in his hands, fuck, Poe could show_ _him what he’d been missing_ , _Poe could teach him, oh so patiently, anything he wanted to know._ Poe blinked. Okay. Apparently he had virginity kink now.

A snide voice (Leia): _Darling, I think you mean a Finn kink_.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered to himself, ducking his head under the shower’s spray. “Fucking shit.”

Yes, yes, obviously: this was merely the latest in a long, torturous line of sordid fantasies regarding the former Trooper, who was, incidentally, his best fucking friend. He wasn’t, like, _proud_ of it. There were mornings when he could barely look Finn in the eye over rubbery eggs and watered-down coffee. He was too old to be doing this. Finn was too lovely a person for Poe to be doing this.

And this was all tip-toeing around, circling obliquely, gingerly avoiding, the great big messy wound at the center of it all. Because of course Poe, master bullshitter, bullshitter extraordinaire, was an old hand at obfuscating the ugly truth of his emotions. Even Leia (“I’m a politician, sweetheart. Never bullshit a bullshitter.”) hadn’t known. Honestly, Poe wasn’t sure how no one had noticed, what with the way he often caught himself staring at Finn, eyes soft with affection.

He’d finally told Leia, one horrible night when his heart felt like a sponge too-swollen with blood.

“I think,” he’d begun shakily, “I think I want things I can’t have.” 

She’d poured him a drink and handed it to him silently.

He had hurriedly tried to justify himself to her, to describe to her that first moment when Finn’s helmet had lifted, and Poe’s heart couldn’t decide if it was fucking soaring or if it had sunk in the sad knowledge that he was absolutely one-hundred-percent _fucked_ , and had done a vaguely nauseating somersault in its confusion. He’d just stared a moment, his lips parted in dumb wonder, as music swelled to a deafening crescendo in his ears.

Leia had merely looked at him flatly as he’d stuttered over his explanation.

“Poe, sweetie.” She’d quirked a brow. “When I first met Han, I swear to God it was like I was being kidnapped. I went from one hostage situation to the next with one fucking smirk.”

Poe had blinked.

“That is to say,” she’d said, smiling wryly, “I understand.”

Poe had originally chalked it up to a perfectly natural infatuation with the person who had saved him, gallantly, beautifully, from torture and death. His mind had still been all jumbled and bloody from Ren’s interrogation, and he imagined that might make someone latch onto the first person to say a kind word. He had carefully, perspicaciously, even, analyzed and discounted emotions that could have proven dangerous if taken too seriously. He had been proud of his detachment, of his healthy ability to hold his feelings at arm’s length.

“What do I—” he’d said to Leia, bereft, “What do I do?”

“There’s nothing _to_ do, darling,” she’d said. “Well. That’s not strictly true. I suppose you have two choices: bide your time and try to escape, or take a fucking hostage in return.” She’d winked.

Frankly unsure what taking a hostage in return meant in the metaphor they were working with, Poe had simply decided to wait it out. Now, however, months later, he couldn’t help but feel he had misunderstood something very, very badly. But by then they were too busy lurching from one catastrophe to the next. There was Starkiller and its vertigo-inducing aftermath, endless nights in medbay with Finn laying soundlessly in a coma, Poe unable to even _look_ at his own jacket. Then fucking Palpatine’s rotting fucking corpse popped out of his grave, and Poe had lost Leia. And, the cherry on top, interwoven throughout these adventures there was Finn’s little flirtation with Rey, and then with Rose, and then with Jannah (straight, straight, he’s fucking _straight_ , does he need to get it tattooed on his forehead?). Poe had become accustomed to tucking his feelings away quietly, tempering his expectations and his desires, standing in the background and not making too many demands.

It had hurt, but it was fine. Poe was fine. He’d get over it. He had to. He was Poe Dameron, dashing pilot, roguish grin, hand-on-hip, etc., etc. Never down for long. Effortlessly keeping the walls from caving in.

And yet: he leaned forward in the shower as he thought about these things and rested his palms flat on the shower wall and said to himself, very quietly, “I cannot take this anymore.”

This love—this love like the exposed nerve of a tooth, this love like a tender green thing trod underfoot—it was slowly grinding him down. He felt it, sometimes, as he watched Finn in his daily tasks: a fever that was burning its way through his veins, until he was nothing but scorched earth and dry ash. Finn _must_ know. He must hear the way Poe says his name through parched lips. He must feel it as Poe touches him with the hands of a man half-starved. Poe had never wanted anything so much in his life.

But Finn didn’t return the feeling. So what could he do?

He couldn’t admit to it, because God knows that Finn was too kind to feel anything but guilty and responsible about it, and then they’d be locked in some awkward dance where neither could look each other in the eye and eventually they’d just let the friendship wither. And that couldn’t happen. The only thing more unendurable than silently loving Finn would be going without him completely.

Besides, even if, by some miracle, Finn _was_ interested in him, Poe wasn’t really sure he was equipped for what might lay ahead. He’d had plenty of relationships before, but it had never been like _this_. He had never prayed that that he’d wake up one morning and be _cured_ , as if it were some sort of wasting disease. Most of his relationships had been purely sexual. Poe was a fighter pilot in a time of war. Any day might be his last. He didn’t have the luxury of long-term relationships. He didn’t have the luxury of personal frailty. He’d grown up watching his parents’ great love, only for it to be shattered, and his father shattered along with it. He knew the costs, and to commit to something while under threat of fire would be so irresponsible, so cavalier. And for the most part, that hadn’t bothered him. It was just another casualty of war on a list that went on for miles, with losses much greater than his own.

But now that the threat had passed, he realized that he had no clue how to _do this_. Most people were figuring relationships out in their twenties, and here Poe was, in his mid-thirties, his mind stumbling over the idea of anything deeper than a convenient fuck after a few drinks. Pathetic, stunted man-child. Even if he were to get together with Finn, a fantasy of a dream of a dehydration-induced mirage, he would surely be unable to get it right, and Finn would leave, and Poe would be in ruins. There are some things you just can’t come back from. No, no: better to simply avoid it all together. Leia had been right the first time. There was nothing to be done. He would have to do without. He would do without.

Thoroughly depressed, but feeling weirdly renewed in his commitment to never, ever letting Finn know the way he felt about him, he quickly finished up in the shower and let his bad mood carry him like a storm cloud to the cafeteria. Poe’s mind hummed quietly along as he gave the coffee machine its customary rattle so it would spit out a cup. The aroma and warmth made something in him feel as if it had been healed. He could do this. He could keep on doing this as long as he had to.

***

TWO DAYS LATER

Poe scanned the food line for Finn, slouched and sleepy-eyed as he always was in the morning, but couldn’t find him and went to their usual table instead. He ate quickly and heartily. 

Finn, bright-eyed in a manic sort of way, sat down next to him with nothing but a small pastry and a cup of coffee. Poe squinted at him.

“Morning,” Finn said, sounding flustered and nervous, picking at his pastry with hands that seemed too blunt for the job.

“Good morning,” Poe replied, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Of—of course,” the younger man said, “Everything’s—everything’s fine. Perfectly fine.”

Poe raised his eyebrows momentarily before simply deciding to leave it. He took a swig of his coffee and settled back into his chair to observe Finn from a better vantage point. He caught himself thinking that he loved Finn’s hair long and tried to blink the thought away. 

“I was thinking,” Finn began. Poe made a listening face. “I was thinking about what you said, about how I should have—I should have sex for the first time with someone I trust.” He looked pained as he said it, staring down at his breakfast with knit eyebrows.

“Yeah?” Poe asked slowly, looking at his friend with concerned eyes. He hoped he hadn’t made anything worse. Finn had seemed really upset about it. Poe supposed it must be difficult to admit something like that, even if it really wasn’t a big deal. He suspected it might be tied to something with the First Order, but didn’t felt comfortable asking. Finn never spoke of his childhood with Poe.

“I know that this wasn’t,” Finn continued hesitantly, “this wasn’t what you had in mind when you said that.” Poe frowned, confused, and took a sip of his coffee. “But would you—would have sex with me?”

Poe choked on his swallow of coffee. His brain shorted out, or something. Flicker, pop, lights _out_ , complete with smoke and smell of burning. Coughing and sputtering, he put his mug down on the table with a clatter, only spilling a little bit in the process. He was choking. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying. Was he dead? Surely he hadn’t heard right? Surely? He was grateful for the coughing fit giving him a moment to get his brain back online before he had to say anything.

“I—you—” he tried, and his voice was high-pitched as it came out. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. Finn was staring at him with big eyes. “You want to have sex with—me?”

Poe knew it was his imagination, but the entirety of the canteen seemed to grind to a standstill as he gazed over at Finn. Finn’s eyes went panicky for a moment before something in him seemed to stretch and settle. He was calm when he spoke.

“I trust you,” he said simply. “I trust you more than anyone else.”

Poe felt something in him go warm and dazed at Finn’s words.

“You—I—thank you,” he settled on, unable to keep his eyes from going all soft and liquid. A thought, however, crossed his mind like a cloud over the sun, and threw everything in darkness. He recalled his crisis in the shower this morning and felt his throat close up. “It’s just that—well, aren’t you—aren’t you straight? You’re not straight?” Nervous and unsure what to do with his hands, he grabbed his coffee and took another sip.

Finn looked down at his hands, a little rueful smile pulling across his face.

“No. I’m sorry I never told you—honestly, so much has been changing lately that I didn’t even—I only realized myself when Rose kissed me—”

Forget about a cloud over the sun. This was like a cold bucket of water on a frigid day. “Rose—?” Poe blurted out, before trying to modulate his tone to one of mere curiosity. Friendly curiosity between _friends_. “Rose—kissed you? You—you and Rose—?”

Had he—had Finn _asked her first_? Fuck. Shitting fuck. A bolt of white-hot jealousy coursed through him at that thought. Finn trusted her. Finn went to her first. She’d agreed, naturally, because she was a smart girl—and they’d gotten as far as a kiss—

“Yeah,” Finn said, looking abashed. “When we were in Canto Bight. I think she only did it because she thought we were going to die.”

Poe genuinely liked Rose, but his opinion of her momentarily plummeted at the slight hint of shame in Finn’s voice as he spoke.

Perhaps it showed on his face, because Finn immediately went to reassure him in a bright voice, “Honestly, though, it’s all good. It forced to me to come to terms with things.”

Poe exhaled through his nose. “Jesus. Wow.” He just sat for a moment, unsure what to say or even think. Finn was gay. Varying emotions like so many flowers in a garden briefly flashed blue, orange, red, purple in Poe’s heart, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to examine them.

“I’m sorry I never told you. I actually—I actually haven’t told anyone except Rey until now,” Finn explained, all hesitant and gorgeous. “It’s been—it’s been kind of hard for me, actually, to come to terms with it.” He suddenly looked up at Poe. “Not that there’s—not that there’s anything _wrong_ with it—”

Poe smiled. “Finn, bud, I get it,” he said. “I’m not angry or upset or anything like that. Really.”

Finn smiled too, rubbing his neck. “The First Order—they’re not exactly the most _accepting_ bunch.”

“I can imagine,” Poe said wryly. “Thank you for telling me.”

Finn looked at him, eyes warm and expectant, with a touch of despairing anxiety.

“So, will you—would you help me?”

Poe swallowed thickly, trying to wrap his head around what Finn was asking him. He surveyed the little flowers that had bloomed a riot across his brain. Finn was asking Poe to touch him. Kiss him, probably. To—to fuck him. The thought of it crackled through his veins like electricity. His gut response was _yes, yes, anything so I might know what it’s like to touch you_. Anything to be closer to you. Anything to _have_ you, if only for a short time.

Oh, and _there’s_ the catch: a short time, and what comes after, when you’ve served your sordid purpose? Disposed of. Kindly, of course, because this is Finn we’re talking about, but disposed of nonetheless. A tool to be used and put away when the task is complete. _Poe the slut, Poe the bisexual, he’ll show you a good time, but he’s not good for much else_ —a recurring insecurity of Poe’s, roundly confirmed.

And it was only made worse by the bitterest, blackest little flower in his garden: Finn was _gay_. All this time, there had been a certain comfort in Finn’s presumed straightness, because, then, the reason he wasn’t into Poe was Poe’s dick, not something lacking in Poe himself. Poe’s maleness was a gate through which Finn must pass in order to develop romantic feelings, and Finn had lost its key through no fault of his own. But now, the gate was wide open, his home had been entered, and he had been deemed unworthy of affection. Poe could tell he hadn’t quite processed that, yet. No, for now, he was a soldier who’d just stepped on a time-release landmine, waiting for the ticking to finally stop with a sort of glassy-eyed terror.

The impending heartbreak raised another important question: if for some insane reason Poe said yes, could he even do this? Could he touch Finn, an action that was for him so weighted with the longing of countless nights, and know that, for Finn, it was empty? Could he even enjoy it, with the sick knowledge that Finn only wanted him because he was desperate to divest himself of his virginity? Here Poe was, getting everything he’d ever dreamed of, but only as a pantomime. How ironic. Like some sort of trite parable. The thought was actually turning his stomach slightly. He was being maudlin now, and yet something clear-eyed and level-headed said, simply: _This will kill you_.

Finn’s voice broke Poe’s internal flailing. Somewhere along the way his face had gone from tentatively hopeful to utterly miserable.

“Please, don’t – don’t do it if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, looking _pained_. Poe could tell that Finn thought he had messed everything up. “The last thing I would ever want to do is pressure someone—pressure _you_ —into this. I know it’s strange—”

Poe wanted to say something stupid, something like, _I would rip out my own heart for you._ But all he could manage was, “Finn,” in a voice that even to Poe’s own ears sounded hopelessly lovesick.

“ _No_ ,” Finn said, his eyes alight in the way they always were when he was defending someone—even if it was, as he thought in this case, from himself. “No. _Please._ ”

He hesitated.

“Poe, I—” he tried. He was looking down at his hands shyly, and Poe ached for a moment to press a kiss into one of his palms. “You seemed so far from me, during Exegol,” he said quietly, as if it were a terrible admission. “You were under so much stress, and I probably didn’t help things either—with the Force sensitivity thing. And then I learned about your past—”

“I was undercover—” Poe interjected, even though he’d already explained this to Finn when he’d finally had the time.

“I know, I know,” Finn said, waving it away. “What I mean to say is—you had a lived a whole lifetime, and I had not—” he stumbled, “lived at all.”

Poe tried again. “Finn—”

“No, I’m not—my point is not—” he closed his eyes, “my point is that I _hated_ how far away you felt. I hated the feeling of distance between us. I can’t—I _won’t_ let this—stupid—insecurity of mine—my _thoughtlessness—_ jeopardize our friendship.”

He finally looked up at Poe, hesitant but brave, and Poe was once again awed at how courageous his friend was—to put himself out there like this, to be so starkly vulnerable.

It was funny, actually, that Finn would bring up Poe’s behavior during Exegol in a conversation during which he came out. Poe had been so irritable, so tense and distant, because he’d thought Finn had been trying, and failing, to confess his undying love and devotion to Rey. He’d been miserably trying to get himself to accept that Finn was _straight_ , trying to shove his pathetic little bits of affection into a box and shut the lid tight. He’d been grappling with the idea that he’d have to watch the man he was in love with build a life with someone that wasn’t _him_. Poe had to bite his cheek at the memory of how he’d felt at that time, like his insides had just been crushed.

“Let’s just—let’s forget about this,” Finn said. “This past week, spending vacation with you, playing chess, being _generals_ , _”_ he smiled, and Poe wanted to die, “—it’s been probably the best week of my life. I don’t need—this. I can do without it for a bit longer.” 

Poe blinked at that, and stared down at his hands. Finn was trying for a carefree tone, but something in it seemed so—defeated. It turned some sort of valve in Poe’s brain, and, _oh,_ there was that crescendo again, rising like a tide until Poe was on the verge of screaming.

What the _fuck_ was he thinking? How could he not give this to Finn? How could he not let Finn, who had been denied so much in his life, have this? And he claimed to love this man? Poe had always believed that, if it’s within your power to help a friend, _you help a friend_. How could he be so selfish, now, when his best friend needed him? 

“Yes,” he blurted out. “Yes, I’ll—I’ll do it.” He smiled. “Of course I’ll do it, bud.”

And in that moment, the look on Finn’s face made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I can't believe Oscar Isaac died for the gays


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're earning our explicit rating here, my friends, so children pls avert ur eyes -   
> Thank you thank you thank you to all you kind souls who have commented, given kudos, subscribed, bookmarked. I adore you.  
> If I've missed any tags, please let me know & I will remedy immediately. enjoy ;)

It had occurred to Finn while watching an old favorite of his, _The Choice_. He’d been watching it with Rey and laughing at the all the creepy bits that reminded them of Kylo Ren. It was strange how things from his childhood, though tainted, still had some power of nostalgia over him. Watching these stupid movies was one of the only ways he had found a moment of joy during his time as a Trooper.

_The Choice_ is about the daughter of a First Order general who is excited to do her duty and procreate for the master race. She has to choose who will father her child. Some very dubious discussions about love and child-rearing ensue, and the girl eventually picks the sour-faced and belligerent, but very tall and fit, young love interest. Primarily, he is chosen because his babies will be the strongest. Finn had once thought he was very swoon-worthy, but, this time around, he and Rey had been screaming at the screen for her to pick one of her other options, particularly her sweet best friend.

“Would you trust that man with your child?!” Rey had screeched, throwing popcorn at the screen. “I wouldn’t trust him with my pet rat!”

She had been, and was still, processing her strange and twisted relationship with Kylo Ren. She’d gone to the desert and returned a few days later, sad-eyed and quiet, for Leia’s funeral. Rey and Finn had talked a lot about it since, mainly after exhaustive lightsaber training programs. She was getting there, but something about him had gotten under skin, and it would take some digging—and some blood—before she was finally free of him.

“Go with your nice friend,” Rey had begged the girl. “He has such kind eyes.”

The best friend is very patient and gives good advice and wears glasses. This is supposed to make him ugly somehow. He makes a play for the girl’s heart and is rejected, but still throws her a baby shower later. The girl feels this is a sign of weakness and is reassured in her choice.

Finn had felt strange when the movie had ended, like something was tugging at his sleeve. Watching _The Choice_ now, it was obvious the best friend is the best option. She trusts him, and talks to him all the time about her problems, and he never laughs.

It had come at him like a bolt of lightning. _Poe._ Poe, of course. Who did he trust with this more than Poe? Poe would teach him, and he wouldn’t laugh at him, and he would so patient, so very patient. The idea was somehow both electrifyingly new, and blindingly obvious.

The insanity of the idea hadn’t hit him until he spoke it out loud to Poe; Finn, walking away from the canteen, felt like a man spared the firing squad. He’d thanked Poe and left quickly. Having figured that Poe might need some space no matter his answer, he’d made plans with Rey for right after breakfast and cited them for a quick getaway. It had gone far better than he’d imagined. His heart had sunk viciously when Poe’s face had gone carefully blank in a way that usually meant he was upset. In some ways, Poe wore his heart on his sleeve, and, in others, he was almost frighteningly skilled at hiding his emotions. Some part of Finn was caught on that face—what was going through Poe’s head that he had gone so still?—but he was too happy to give it much attention at the moment.

Finn exited the canteen and tried to surreptitiously check if anyone was around. When he saw he was alone, he smiled hugely and let out an embarrassing yelp of relief and happiness. It was finally going to happen—and with his _best friend_ , no less. Finn couldn’t help but smile as he thought about it. He put his hands to his mouth and took a moment to consider: Poe. Poe, kind and generous and lovely, with his dark eyes and his big hands—Poe was going to fuck him. Yes, he could admit it: he’d fantasized about Poe a bit. Anyone with _eyes_ probably did. Finn, during what Rey affectionately called his Gay Awakening, had arrived abruptly at the fact that Poe was absolutely _gorgeous,_ and marveled at how he’d been so oblivious to it in the past. But Poe was his best friend, so he’d purposefully tried to limit any lingering glances and flights of fancy.

Finn was smiling as he walked into the hangar, and tried quickly to school his face to impassivity. Rey, looking up from the guts of a ship, narrowed her eyes a moment, before they widened with shock.

“He said yes?!” she asked.

Finn nodded, trying and failing to suppress a smile. She dropped a wrench in putting her hand over her mouth.

“Wow,” she said. “I, um—”

Finn made a face. “I know you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Rey looked down. “I’m just…worried,” she said carefully. “I know he’d never hurt you on purpose, but he’s so much more experienced than you, and I’m afraid that you’re going into this too quickly. A few months ago, you weren’t even aware you were gay, Finn.”

It was undoubtedly true that Poe was lightyears ahead of Finn sexually. He was very openly interested in both men and women, and Finn could confirm that he had never been shy about making advances. But even if Poe had slept with a different person every night, the important facts remained the same: Finn would trust Poe with his life.

Finn opened his mouth to defend Poe but stopped at the look on Rey’s face when she looked up.

“Finn, he—he _named_ you,” she said gently. “I’m worried that you’re giving too much of yourself here. Without meaning to, he may take advantage, and you may _let him_.”

Finn was stunned.

“You—you were the one who said I should—what was it—take whatever joy I can find!” Finn sputtered. “And yesterday, you said _nothing_!”

“I didn’t think he’d say yes!” Rey objected.

Finn didn’t understand where this was coming from. The hurt he felt momentarily took his breath away.

“Of course, he—he wouldn’t want to have sex with _me_ without some sort of ulterior motive, is that it?” Finn said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“That’s not what I—you _know_ that’s not what I meant.”

Finn swallowed and looked down, unsure why he was so upset.

“You’ve put yourself in such a vulnerable position, Finn,” she tried again, sadly.

Something in her tone sounded almost wistful, and Finn had the suspicion she wasn’t talking so much about Poe.

“Rey,” he said quietly. “I understand where you’re coming from. I know what he did to you. But that’s not Poe. You know that’s not Poe.”

Rey looked down again, but Finn could see tears shining in her eyes.

“I know,” she said. “I know that, but—I’m just afraid this will end badly. I’m afraid you’ll get into this and not realize how much it’s hurting you until after the fact.”

“Why would this hurt me?” Finn asked with a gentle smile.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Rey said. “Things happen.” She frowned. “You have a hard time listening to yourself.”

It was true, and a theme that they had considered many times. Growing up, all Rey had was herself—her inner monologue, her own thoughts and feelings—and so she was unaccustomed to her feelings being interrogated or challenged. What she felt was always right and true. Finn, on the other hand, had spent every waking minute of his childhood being told his feelings were untrustworthy, or wrong, and so he had learned to ignore or suppress them. Hence the not realizing he was gay until he was in his twenties.

“Maybe you’re right about that,” he said. “But that’s _me_ , not Poe. And it’s just sex, right?”

Rey looked at him carefully, and seemed to comprehend that he had already made up his mind. “Okay.” She smiled, small but genuine, and Finn was so relieved he thought he might cry. “Just—just promise me you’ll be honest with him, okay? Tell him if he’s hurting you, or if you’re confused, or whatever you’re feeling.”

“Promise,” Finn said, a smile threatening.

“I suppose I should be happy for you,” she said wryly.

“Thanks,” he said, a lump rising in his throat. “I was, um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

She quirked a brow inquisitively.

“I want to give Poe a gift. A thank you.”

Rey snorted, and began to laugh. “A thanks for fucking me gift?”

Finn blushed, but couldn’t help laughing himself. “Fuck off,” he said amiably.

“Alright, alright,” she smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

***

Finn answered his door that evening with his heart in his mouth. The shot of vodka he’d taken with Rey seemed to have soured in his stomach and he felt very much like he was going to be sick. Only the thought of Poe’s expression after his confession—warm, open, accepting—kept him from running away.

Poe, at the door: off-white shirt unbuttoned around the neck, hair tousled, five o’clock shadow. Finn’s thinking stuttered to a stop as he took in the expanse of neck and upper chest and collarbones on display. He’d seen Poe in varying states of undress before, but something about this demure glimpse of skin was different. This was a prelude. This signified something. The thought made Finn shiver a bit.

“Hey, bud,” Poe said, and his voice was low, and earnest. Finn swallowed, and felt distinctly like he was in over his head.

“Hi,” he said, like an idiot, motioning for Poe to enter.

His friend sat down on his bunk, and palmed the back of his own neck hesitantly. “Come sit.”

“No, I—” Finn said. “Let me—first.”

Rey had told him to be honest with Poe about how he was feeling, and he would, but if he didn’t get it out now, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Poe looked surprised and little concerned. “Okay,” he said slowly, his gaze far too warm and inviting.

Finn sat down despite the fact that he had declined the invitation and immediately began literally wringing his hands. At Poe’s expression of mild alarm, he forced himself to stop and placed his hands at his sides on the bed.

“Sorry, I—” he tried. “I wanted to say thank you, which I know sounds weird, given what—what I’m thanking you for.” Poe’s expression shifted into something he couldn’t read. Finn tried to forge ahead in spite of it. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of my childhood. What I do remember is a sort of feeling of—of not belonging. Of being different.”

He could feel more than see Poe softening as he listened. Finn had never, _never_ spoken of his upbringing with him, and Finn could tell he was concerned and a bit alarmed and unsure.

“Here, I’m _happy_ ,” Finn continued, and braved a glance at Poe, who smiled at his words. “I am. But I still sometimes…feel the distance between myself and everyone else.”

“I hope I haven’t…” Poe trailed off softly.

Finn shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, “It’s nothing you’ve done. It’s nothing anyone’s done on purpose.” He smiled ruefully. “I _am_ different. I was raised as…a weapon.”

“You’re not a weapon,” Poe said quietly, his voice tight with complicated emotion. Finn felt gratitude fill him with warmth. What had he ever done to deserve such a kind and loyal friend?

“I know that—now. Now that I’m here,” Finn said. “I just,” he stumbled, and averted his eyes, “I just wanted to say thank you. It’s—one less thing in which I am a freak.”

Poe looked down, then, and when he lifted his gaze, it was soft and open like it had been when this all began. He covered one of Finn’s hands with his own.

“You’re not a freak,” he said gently. “You’re my friend. I know it hurts to feel like you’re not _normal_ , whatever the fuck that means. But all that bullshit doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re kind, and brave, and thoughtful, and smart.” He paused. “And you beat me at chess every time. Possibly through cheating.”

“I do _not cheat_ ,” Finn said, laughing. “You’re just shit at chess.”

“Whenever I get up to get a snack, you always have this sly look on your face. Why is that?”

“Shut up,” Finn laughed.

Poe smiled indulgently, clearly pleased with himself for having distracted Finn. He let a comfortable silence settle between the two of them.

“We’re gonna do this, okay?” he said. “Just let me take care of everything.”

Finn took a deep breath. _Just let me take care of everything_. Jesus Christ. He never thought he’d enjoy somebody taking control like that, but the assurance in Poe’s voice was making Finn’s whole body warm. Poe made it sound like—like if Finn would just step aside, Poe could lead him through this dance with ease and expertise, and the thought was frighteningly arousing.

Poe shifted his body a bit closer to Finn’s, and the hand previously on his own moved to his upper arm and petted him soothingly. Finn’s heartbeat set to galloping, and, at once, his head held both too many thoughts and none at all.

“You ready?” Poe asked gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…” he trailed off. His mind had gone blank, but somehow he was moving closer, too. He and Poe had both shifted so that their legs, previously parallel, were now diagonal, brushing at the knees.

“I hope it’s okay if I kiss you,” Poe murmured, slowly moving his mouth towards Finn’s. “I don’t think I can do this without kissing you.”

Finn nodded wordlessly, staring at Poe’s lips like he was in a daze. He was so close, now, his warmth like a crackling fire, their lips only inches away. Poe’s other hand came up to rest on his face gently, his thumb stroking Finn’s cheek twice as he slotted his nose besides Finn’s. He hesitated a moment, eyes fluttering shut, and Finn felt his breath coming in soft puffs. Finn placed one shaking hand on Poe’s thigh. Was—was shaking normal?

He was glad of Poe’s hands on him, steadying and soft and firm. Poe’s eyes fluttered open, hooded and warm as his gaze roamed over Finn’s face. Finn swallowed and closed his own eyes, fighting past the near-painful urge to hide his face. He felt hot all over, like an over-ripened fruit.

Poe’s lips—finally, _finally_ —touched his, so gentle and so sweet that Finn was momentarily taken aback. Stunned, he did nothing but continue to shake as Poe kissed his upper lip again, this time with slightly more firmness. So different, so different, to his kiss with Rose that he wondered for a moment that they should be considered the same thing. Something in Finn felt shaken loose, open and alive, and when Poe kissed him again, this time in a way that spoke of urgency, of _intent_ , he kissed back. It came more naturally than he had expected it to. He did his best to follow Poe’s cues, tilting his head the other way as Poe did the same. Poe bent one leg up and spread the other across Finn’s lap, half-sitting on top of him. He seemed to want to settle into the kissing a bit, and Finn was aware they were still somewhat far apart for that, but couldn’t seem to figure out how to remedy it. Poe moved his other hand to Finn’s face, holding his head in his hands as they kissed with more and more fervor.

Poe pulled back for a moment, a question on his lips, and Finn, without the kiss crowding his faculties, suddenly felt self-conscious and awkward. He wondered if Poe had been able to tell it was his first proper kiss. How could one kiss set him to shaking while the other had left him cold? The thought was a bit of a sobering one, and Finn couldn’t help the panicky question that went through his head: which type of kiss was it for Poe? Poe, who had an entire lifetime of experience? He was probably laughing hysterically at Finn losing his mind over a kiss, and such a chaste one at that. Embarrassment and anxiety clamored their way in, closing up his throat.

Poe, to his credit, seemed to notice that Finn’s mood had soured a bit, and asked, “You okay?”

“I, um,” he tried to respond, but his lips had gone numb. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t _do this_. Shaking again, he tried to disengage his body from Poe’s. “I can’t—”

Oh, god. He was having a panic attack. This was—mortifying. He wanted to die. He wanted to disappear. Embarrassing and shameful and immature. His breath went short and labored, sending him down a dizzying spiral. He couldn’t do this. He would never be able to have this. Distantly, he heard Poe saying his name, full of concern.

Shifting so he had his back against the wall, he drew his legs up to chest and put his head on his knees. Tears were gathering in his eyes, and he couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t stop any of this. _Breathe_ , he begged himself, _just breathe_.

He suddenly felt Poe’s warm presence beside him, and a hand rubbing circles into his back. “You’re okay,” Poe said. Finn had never heard anyone speak so gently to him. “You’re safe. You’re just fine.”

“I—can’t—” Finn tried.

“Shh,” Poe soothed, continuing to rub his back, “You’re okay. Take a deep breath with me, okay?” He breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly. Finn tried to follow his lead, but only managed hiccupping breaths. “You’re doing fine. Try another deep breath for me.” Finn, lost in the depths of panic, latched onto Poe’s voice, onto the feeling of his ribcage steadily expanding and contracting. If he could just do as Poe said, he would find his way out of this maze. He didn’t have to think, or worry, he just had to do as Poe said. Finn managed a shuddering breath. “There we go,” Poe cooed. “There we go, that’s it.”

Finn felt himself begin to descend slowly from the heights of his panic, losing himself in the metronomic steadiness of Poe’s breathing. His own breath became more regular and calm with each moment, leaving him feeling shaky and clammy with sweat.

It might have been seconds, it might have been minutes, but Finn eventually felt the earth settle under his feet. He swallowed thickly.

“That hasn’t,” he stumbled, “that hasn’t happened in a while.”

It was sort of the truth. He hadn’t had one since before Exegol. The panic attacks, the nightmares, they had lessened with every month he was free, but they still haunted him.

Poe started forward, as though to embrace him, but then seemed to think the better of it. “Lemme—” he said instead, before going over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a bottle of water and chocolate bar. He clambered back on the bed and handed them to Finn.

“Thanks,” Finn breathed, shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth and cracking open the water bottle simultaneously.

“Was that—” Poe began to ask, before stopping himself, looking almost chastened. “Was that the first time you’ve kissed anybody?”

Finn felt himself recoil in shame. There was something _wrong_ with him, something very wrong, and now Poe was starting to see it. This was a mistake. Poe would see how defective he was, and run.

“Oh god, Finn, I’m so sorry,” Poe said lowly, apparently taking Finn’s silence as an answer. He was looking down at his hands. “I should have _asked_ that, I don’t know what I was thinking. Totally my fault.”

The crystal-clear ring of earnestness in his voice made Finn’s eyes water up. He took a few swallows of water in an attempt to hide his reaction. It was such classic Poe, clean-cut and honest and decent, and it made Finn want to die.

“No,” he said lowly, unable to even look at Poe. “No, it’s my fault. You did nothing wrong.” It was Finn, the misshapen piece, the square peg, that was the problem. “I’m just—too messed up, I think. I’m—all wrong inside, you know? Not cut out for all this,” he said, waving his hand vaguely.

Poe looked at him with alarm. “Not cut—not _cut out_? Finn, _what_?” His tone made Finn look at him, and he saw that his friend’s eyes were wide, his mouth set in dismay. “No, no, no—I’ll fix this. It’s my fault. We’ll do this—together. We just need to talk more, that’s all. Communicate,” he insisted, shaking his head like this was all easy, like Finn wasn’t hacking his way through a jungle here.

How could he explain this? How could he communicate to Poe that he done too much, that too much had been done to him? He felt like everything he wanted was just out of his reach, just beyond a locked door. He could hear the life on the other side, but all he could do was pound his fists and scream, even though he knew no one was listening. There was simply no way forward, and this failed experiment had only confirmed it. Something in him was… _diseased_ in a way that could never be healed.

But Poe wasn’t having it. “Listen to me,” he was saying, ignoring the desperate, sad way Finn was shaking his head. “ _Listen_ to me. You’ve _done_ the hard part.”

“What are you talking about?” Finn asked exasperatedly.

“You _left._ Do you understand me?” Poe asked urgently. “That place had,” he stumbled, “abused you, brainwashed you, and you somehow found the strength and the bravery and the fucking _courage_ , and you fucking _left_. Do you understand how hard that is? Do you understand how few people have what you have in you?”

“That’s just the Force—” Finn tried to argue.

“It’s fuck-all to do with _the Force_ ,” Poe all but snapped. “Darth Vader? Ring any bells?”

Finn had to concede the point.

“The _Force_ ,” Poe scoffed. “No, bud. That was all _you_. The man who saved me? You.” He paused, seemingly filled with so many emotions he didn’t even know where to begin. “There is something inside of you—something so true and so good that not even a lifetime with the First Order could beat it out of you. You _astound_ me. You understand me?”

Finn was staring, so overwrought with emotion he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted so badly to believe in what Poe was saying, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Tears had begun to run down his face at some point, and he shoved them away hastily.

“You’ve done the scary bit,” Poe said, gentle once again. “The rest of this?” he shook his head, “The rest of this is _nothing_.”

Poe touched Finn’s shoulder lightly, and bent his head to look into Finn’s eyes, as if to check that what he’d said had registered.

“Thank you,” Finn said quietly, mortified at how watery his voice sounded.

“It’s only the truth,” Poe said casually, shrugging, and Finn couldn’t help but laugh as he wiped at his tear-stained cheeks. Poe gave him a searching look. “Maybe we should…call it a night and try again tomorrow?”

Finn looked thoughtful for a moment, still wiping at his face and sniffling.

“No,” he said, finally. “I want to do this. If I don’t try again, I’m going to be scared forever.” He looked at Poe obliquely. “That is—of course—if you’re still okay with this. I would understand—”

It really wasn’t fair for Finn to continue asking Poe to do this when his issues clearly ran a lot deeper than he had originally supposed. There was asking a friend for help, and there was taking advantage.

“Finn,” Poe silenced him, hand upraised. “Of course I’ll help you. But this isn’t going to happen in one night.” His eyes searched Finn, ostensibly gauging his reaction.

“I can’t ask you—”

Poe repeated the silencing gesture. “You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he said firmly. “So if you’re afraid of something stupid like taking advantage of me, _stop._ It’s really more for my own sake than for yours.”

Finn squinted at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s…hard for me,” Poe said slowly, picking at a loose thread on his pants, “to watch you hurt. I didn’t mean to, but something I did tonight _hurt_ you. I don’t particularly want to repeat the experience.”

His words hung heavy in the air between them. Poe glanced up at Finn nervously, as if Finn would be upset at them. Far from it, Finn actually felt grateful tears gather hot in his eyes. Poe was—too good. Too good for him. His affection for the man threatened to overwhelm him like a looming wave.

“Oh,” said Finn. “I—”

“And besides,” Poe continued quickly, “I want to, you know, show you a good time.” He punctuated this with a sheepish little smile. Finn, already floundering in his fondness for Poe, felt himself sink a little deeper. “And the best way to do that is to take this slow.”

Finn nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Poe said, with a smirk.

“So…what exactly does _slow_ mean?”

Poe’s smirk crinkled into something more sincere.

“Well,” he said with a sort of warm reluctance, as if he knew it had to be said, but also knew it was going to be awkward as hell, “why don’t you tell me what you like?”

Finn’s heart fairly stopped.

“What I…like?” he said slowly.

“Yeah,” Poe said, voice pitched low and intimate. “You know…what you think about when you,” he stumbled, “when you jerk off. What you like to watch.”

Mouth very dry, Finn repeated, absently, “Watch.”

Poe nodded, his eyes searching Finn.

“Um,” Finn said, embarrassed because something had come very quickly to mind and he wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase it without sounding crazy. He was grateful to Poe for taking it as a given that Finn watched porn, instead of asking him and making him verbally confirm. “I like it when they’re…nice. When they talk nicely to each other. No, you know, name-calling or, like, hard pounding?” Finn felt his cheeks heat up. “Softer stuff, I guess. A lot of kissing and, I don’t know, hand-holding.”

Poe smiled sympathetically. “I don’t like name-calling, either,” he said quietly, and something in his voice made Finn think he was talking from bad experience. He looked at Poe, trying to divine his feelings, and ultimately failing.

“That was the only type of gay porn I could find in the First Order,” Finn said, ultimately. “It was always about…humiliation and pain. I think they were trying to deter us, you know?”

Poe looked pained. “That’s so fucked up,” he said. “It doesn’t—it doesn’t have to be like that. Not at all.” He paused. “So, it was condoned, but not…positively viewed?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, searching for the words. “It was okay for now, to, you know, satisfy your frustrated urges while you were actively serving. But _real_ sex, the good stuff, that was for later, with women.”

“And I’m guessing relationships were off the table?”

Finn nodded. “There wasn’t anyone I was really interested in anyway,” he said. “There were—one or two moments of, um, frottage, but we were interrupted, and I was actually kind of thankful for it.”

Poe’s eyes went a bit glassy for a moment, before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression. “Okay, um. Okay,” he said falteringly, and Finn was unable to read why. “That’s good to know.” Poe cleared his throat. “Maybe you could…show me a video you particularly like? One you always come back to?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, a little too loudly. He scooted off the bed to pull it up, repeating more softly, “Yeah.”

There was one video that had been his favorite during his Gay Awakening, and he cued it up, moving quickly so that his embarrassment couldn’t catch up with him. He got back onto the bed and he and Poe sat next to each other, knees up, backs against the wall. Finn propped the screen up on his knees and pressed play.

It was two men on a white hotel bed, naked, from a bit of a distance. One man was tall and olive-skinned, the other short and built with darker skin. The taller man was on top of the other, and they were kissing deeply, their hair askew, their bodies loose and comfortable. The smaller man had his legs up around his partner’s waist, kissing him breathlessly, running his hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. They were perpendicular to the camera, so you couldn’t actually see anything beside the curve of the taller man’s ass from the side.

Finn glanced at Poe, and was pleased to see he was watching intently.

The smaller man groped the taller man’s ass and giggled a little. His partner smiled, and they talked softly to each other as their hands roamed.

“I like this,” Poe said, his voice low and little rough. Finn felt his body heat up a bit. He was glad Poe enjoyed it.

They watched as the smaller man’s hips shifted, shifting his partner with them. Taking advantage of the new angle, the taller man turned his attentions to the smaller’s neck and chest, sucking and kissing as his partner squirmed and moaned.

Poe sighed a bit as he watched, and Finn felt his own breathing get a little heavier. There was something so hot about watching this with Poe, but Finn didn’t want to examine it further, at least not at present. The taller man kissed the stomach of the smaller man, who in turn ran his hands through his own hair, as though overwhelmed by the sensations he was feeling. Finn swallowed thickly. Usually this part didn’t affect him so much.

The taller man traveled further down his partner’s body, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s thighs and lifting slightly. He ducked his head in between the smaller man’s legs and started to eat him out. The taller man’s head and body moved slightly and steadily as he went, and his partner began to moan and pant. His grip tightened on the smaller man’s legs as his partner began to shift helplessly underneath him. The smaller man lifted his head to watch, stroking his own chest lightly.

Finn could hear Poe’s breathing pick up, and dared a glance over. He was watching with hooded eyes, mouth slightly open. Something in his expression caused a shiver of pleasure to travel up Finn’s spine, and he felt his cock start to thicken in his pants.

The smaller man grabbed his partner’s hand as his chest began to heave. Moaning continuously, his hips began to fuck forward into his partner’s face. The taller man shifted slightly, and the camera could just see his other hand working his partner’s cock at a leisurely pace that was clearly driving its owner insane. The smaller man’s legs began to shake where they rested on his partner’s shoulders, and he was moaning little punched-out noises, head thrown back.

“Fuck,” Poe murmured, transfixed. Finn was—fully hard now. “Finn, I, um,” Poe said, turning to him. “I have an idea.”

Finn nodded slightly, ready to do almost anything.

“Touch yourself,” Poe said, his pupils blown wide. Finn heard the clink of a belt and looked down at Poe’s lap. He was undoing his belt. “I’ll—I’ll do it, too.”

Finn swallowed, his gaze riveting to Poe’s hand currently unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. Poe shifted, and his shirt rode up slightly, exposing a strip of olive skin and dark hair. This, somehow, spurred Finn to action, and he hurried to undo his belt.

On screen, the two men had shifted position. The smaller man was on top of the larger, his back to the camera, riding his dick slowly and deliberately. His partner was kneading his ass roughly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air obscenely.

“Oh,” Finn said involuntarily, pulling his cock out of his briefs. God, that felt good. He dared a glance at Poe, and saw him looking at Finn’s cock with a hangdog expression, pumping his own loosely. He was slightly longer than Finn, but a bit less thick, pink and uncut and, _fuck_ , leaking. Finn watched with what he was sure was a stupid look on his face as Poe licked his own hand and continued pumping his cock. They were both sitting with their legs outstretched now, trousers and underwear shoved down. Finn couldn’t stop looking at Poe’s thighs, tensed up and gorgeous, and began to touch himself in earnest. As he did so, Poe let out a ragged moan.

“Jesus Christ,” Poe muttered. “Finn, let me—would you—would you lay down on your side for me? Keep on touching yourself.”

Finn, dazed, could only obey. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit at how quickly and eagerly he’d follow Poe’s commands, and knew he would be embarrassed later, but felt only a spark of arousal and warm expectation at the moment.

“Good, just like that,” Poe said roughly, shifting his own body so he was lying next to Finn, facing him. Finn couldn’t help the moan that escaped him at Poe’s words. “You’re doing so well.”

Then Poe fixed him a stare so intense that Finn’s hand stuttered on his cock.

“Say the word,” he said, “and this stops, no questions asked, okay?”

Finn nodded, apprehension lodged in his throat. His hand had stilled.

Poe’s hand reached out and touched his face, like he’d done earlier, and he moved in closer. “Keep on touching yourself for me, that’s right,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to Finn’s lips, shifting his hand to cup Finn’s jaw. Finn jerked forward slightly, moan caught in his throat at the sudden proximity. He could feel the heat of Poe even through the layers of clothing, and began to pump himself again slowly. Poe kissed him, then, clumsier and messier than before, but just as tender. His mouth was hot and firm against Finn’s own, tongue sweeping plush against Finn’s top lip. Finn let Poe coax his mouth open gently, his hand slowing against his cock, getting lost in the kiss. When Poe licked into his mouth, deep and wet, Finn moaned and melted into his embrace. Heat thrummed through his veins, rising with each moment, and somehow their hips became flush, Finn’s hand trapped between them. He felt loose and languid, almost drugged with Poe’s kiss, leisurely following along, floating on a cloud.

Moans from the video, forgotten somewhere on the bed, suddenly became louder, followed by some obscene slurping noises.

“Oh God,” Finn murmured against Poe’s lips when he pulled back for air. His entire body was thrumming with arousal, over-heated and strung too tightly.

“Yeah,” Poe agreed raggedly. He raked his hand through his hair desperately. “Would you—touch yourself? Lemme—lemme see you come.”

The breathless request made Finn’s stomach swoop like it did when Poe did a nosedive for fun. Perhaps this was Poe doing a nosedive. The mere idea of Poe wanting to see Finn like this, wanting to see him come, seemed just as dramatic and dangerous.

“You too?” Finn asked, backing his hips away from Poe’s so he could grip himself better. He didn’t want to do this alone.

Poe’s eyes fluttered shut and he nodded. His hand wrapped around his cock and began to pump. He let out a soft moan. Finn looked at his friend’s face for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, mouth in a little moue of concentration.

“Can I—can I kiss you?” he asked, and his voice sounded _rough_ even to his own ears. “Is it okay?”

Poe’s eyes opened and he said, in a breathy voice, “Yeah, yeah, kiss me, kiss me, I want you to.” His hand was working furiously at his cock now, his breath absolutely ragged, and Finn could only manage a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as he touched himself, but Poe didn’t seem to mind.

Their knuckles brushed against each other, and Finn felt the first stirrings of orgasm rising in a sick-hot wave. Knowing that Poe was with him, was _watching_ him, his hand working alongside his own, was like a punch in the gut. A wave of heat and pressure built within him and he couldn’t stop fucking _shaking_.

“Poe,” he said raggedly.

His friend seemed to be in a similar state, panting heavily and moaning almost continuously. He kissed Finn, desperate and rough, so different from the earlier tenderness. Finn leaned into it, wanting the contact as he edged closer and closer to orgasm. It was building and building, wet and hot and perfect, and he—

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m—” he panted against Poe’s mouth. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah, yes, please,” Poe begged, biting at his mouth.

Finn’s hips jerked forward helplessly with his final thrusts, drowning in fever-hot pleasure. He came with a strangled moan, burying his face in Poe’s neck, feeling his cum wet and hot in his palm.

Breathless and dazed, loose with orgasm, Finn sucked and bit at Poe’s neck lazily, delighting in the feel of his friend rocking against him desperately.

“C’mon,” he murmured into Poe’s ear between kisses. “C’mon”

Poe’s thrusts became frantic before he tensed up completely, a pained sort of grunt escaping him as he came into his own hands. Immediately after, he grabbed Finn’s face in his tacky hands, and kissed him fiercely between panting breaths. Finn, alarmed, didn’t respond at first, but, after a moment, kissed back.

Suddenly, Poe stopped, just as Finn was returning the kiss, and rolled onto his back. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Finn, feeling something like whiplash, could only blink and stare.

“That was—really nice,” Poe said, panting.

Finn swallowed. “Yeah,” he agreed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, still a little dazed. “That was amazing.”

Poe turned towards him, expression open and unguarded. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” he said, smiling dreamily and rubbing his chest with a contented air. “I’m fantastic.”

Poe chuckled, and sat up, starting to pull his pants back over his ass. “Good,” he said distractedly. “You did really well. I’m gonna,” he stumbled, “I’m gonna go have a shower, I think. I’m all sweaty and gross and…covered in come.”

Finn felt his face fall. “Oh,” he said, pulling his own pants up. “Okay. Is everything alright?”

Finn wasn’t sure why he was feeling so disappointed. What had he expected? A cuddle? That was not fair of him. Poe was doing this to help him, and was doing more than enough already.

Poe caught Finn’s concerned look and smiled easily. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said. “Just tired, you know? I’ve been going through Leia’s papers and it’s just—a lot of work.”

Finn sat up. He was so _thoughtless_. “Oh, god, I didn’t even think of that,” he said, feeling terrible. “You already have so much on your plate, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, don’t be ridiculous,” Poe said reassuringly. “This is _important_.” He paused. “And not completely unpleasant,” he finished wryly.

Finn blushed and looked down.

“See you at breakfast?” Poe asked.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Thank you, Poe.”

Poe smiled beatifically, not quite looking at Finn. “’Course, bud.”

Once he had left, Finn flopped backward onto the bed with a long exhale. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. Something that had, mere hours ago, mere _minutes_ ago, seemed untouchable, unattainable, was now within reach. He never thought he’d even be able to so much as kiss anyone without shutting down completely, and that had turned out to be partly true, but he’d never, _never_ imagined someone like Poe would be there to guide him through it. He’d never imagined anyone would consider him worth the trouble. Sighing happily, he shuffled to the shower to clean off.

***

Poe was shaking as he walked back to his room.

The moment he had dreamed about, night after night: the _kiss_. He had imagined it so many times. And now that it had actually happened, he wished that he had never hoped for it. The disparity between what he felt and what he could show had soured it, turning this thing that was supposed to have been so beautiful, so tender and loving, into a crystallized moment of Poe’s pathetic unsatisfied yearning. The first kiss they would ever share, _gone_. He had wanted it to be so different.

He had wanted it to be _real._ In all his desperate, shameful imaginings, one thing had remained consistent: they had finally met not just physically, but emotionally as well. When Poe had said _I love you_ , Finn had said it back. Poe felt the unrequited connection cold in his own heart, a clawing void that made him want to paw at his chest and howl. And, _fuck_ , they’d barely done anything this time and it had hit him like a ton of bricks. How would it feel when he was really touching Finn? When— _Jesus Christ—_ they were actually fucking?

Poe entered his room and slammed the door shut, sliding to the floor sadly. He sat there, his head in his hands, willing himself to forget the way Finn had _sounded_ , Jesus _Christ_ —

The most ridiculous part was that Poe had been going to say no. He had been primed to gently retract his agreement, to cite the importance of their friendship, to posit his intentions to be the best wingman anyone ever had. But then Finn had—Finn had sounded so broken up, so _grateful_ , as if Poe were saving him as Finn had saved Poe. And Poe _wanted_ that. He wanted to be of service to Finn. He wanted to help him heal in any way he could. Isn’t that what this would always come back to? No matter how many times Poe let this rattle around his head, the truth would remain the same: this would rip his heart out, tendon by fucking tendon, but, for Finn, Poe was willing to let that happen. Not very pretty. No butterflies or flowers or chocolates. Just Poe being slowly, gently suffocated by his love for Finn.

Finn, who had been so brave, who had kissed him so softly, so hesitantly. Who had fought through a panic attack and years of compounded shame and his own inexperience to meet Poe. Who had said he was _all wrong inside_ , who had shyly confided that he liked _lots of kissing and hand-holding_ , as if that were a sin. How could someone be so naïve and so jaded at once? Poe just wanted to shelter him, to build a house all around him so he would never have to feel afraid again. There was nothing, _nothing_ , he wouldn’t give for Finn. This—this sick feeling was something that could be endured. He could pretend. He could act like Finn was one of the tens of people he’d slept with and hadn’t had feelings for. He had the experience. It almost made him laugh, how, upon finally meeting someone he’d like to share more with, he was being denied the chance. Perhaps he was being punished.

He slowly got to his feet, mulling over the thought. It was certainly possible. Maybe it was the Force, meting out cosmic justice. He didn’t know. What did it matter anyway? He washed his hands, still a little tacky with cum, in the sink, and remembered the way he had kissed Finn during those last moments.

He wished he had someone to talk to. Finn was usually the one he’d confide in, but that was out of the question for obvious reasons. If Leia were here, he could have talked to her about it. She would have cheered him up, told him to fuck Finn so well that he’d have no choice but to fall in love with him.

Poe climbed into bed, unable to ignore the way the ghost of Finn’s touch lingered on his skin. He didn’t sleep for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Like, you guys knew what to do with Daisy Ridley, you knew what to do with Adam Driver,” he says. “You knew what to do with these other people, but when it came to Kelly Marie Tran, when it came to John Boyega, you know fuck all. So what do you want me to say? What they want you to say is, ‘I enjoyed being a part of it. It was a great experience...’ Nah, nah, nah. I’ll take that deal when it’s a great experience. They gave all the nuance to Adam Driver, all the nuance to Daisy Ridley. Let’s be honest. Daisy knows this. Adam knows this. Everybody knows. I’m not exposing anything.”  
> \- John Boyega, British UK, Sept 2020
> 
> WHERES THE LIE


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the dirtiest thing I have ever published and I am BLUSHING. I had so much fun writing this.
> 
> ...D'Angelo plays softly in the background...

Poe awoke in a melancholy mood, and it was that, mixed with last night’s fervent wishes for someone to talk to, that made him seek out Leia’s old office in the early hours of the next morning. He’d been meaning to go through her things, but hadn’t felt strong enough as yet. Now, red-eyed and feeling a little manic, he wasn’t sure he ever would. It was strange, having one’s mentor die. He felt like an imposter, a general in name only, when compared to Leia in all her wisdom and experience. Poe could think of countless men and women, all in their graves now, who would have been better Generals than him. His only real qualification was that he somehow still had a pulse.

He’d met Leia shortly after the First Order had entered the scene. The first feeling he can remember having when he’d heard about them was not disgust at their hateful fascist bullshit, or even sadness at the inevitable ensuing loss of life, but a dark futility that he had never experienced before. His parents’ successes had been rendered hollow by a bunch of wannabe clowns in Darth Vader helmets. Everything they had sacrificed, for nothing. He had very seriously considered never flying again, and just throwing in the towel. Thankfully, Leia had approached him, and asked him to continue his parents’ legacy, and Poe had re-calibrated his thoughts to the idea that the work of keeping the galaxy safe was never done. He had happily devoted years of his life to chipping away at the First Order however he could, always aware of the fact that any day might be his last. The issue of _what comes next_ had never really occurred to him.

But now, he had outlived the fight he’d thought would kill him, and he had outlived the one person he might have trusted to know what the fuck to do about it. _What comes next?_ He had no clue. All that remained of the Resistance’s mission statement was to put out small fires having to do with the collapse of the First Order, and perhaps to be watchful for the next quasi-fascist, Dark Side organization to arise. Poe supposed that he could, technically, retire, but what would there be to retire to? He had no family left, no roots to call upon. His relationships had all been shallow and brief. His whole life was the Resistance.

Poe hated the way he felt, shaky and strung-out and stretched-thin, as he began to trawl through the dusty boxes and papers Leia had left behind. She was an absolute packrat, he thought, muscling his way through a pile of what appeared to be receipts from Maz’s. He welcomed the distraction from the arrangement, or whatever fucking euphemism he would clutch at next, between himself and Finn.

Poe’s increasingly morbid train of thought was interrupted by a confused, “Poe?” from the doorway. It was Finn, and Poe froze like he’d been caught doing something terrible instead of reading twenty-year-old drink orders.

“Finn?” he croaked out.

“I wanted to find you before you had your morning coffee…” Finn trailed off, eyeing the steaming cup currently on Leia’s desk and seeming disappointed, in Poe’s eyes, to a nonsensical degree.

“Is everything okay?” Poe asked, openly concerned. Had he pushed too hard last night? Was this Finn doing him the courtesy of ending their friendship face-to-face?

“Yeah…” Finn said distractedly. “What’re you doing? It’s _early_.”

Poe took in Finn’s appearance, then. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, his upper arms fucking devastating as usual, his eyes still a little bleary and early-morning lost. Poe lost himself for a minute thinking about how those arms had looked, muscle tense and coiled, as Finn had jerked himself off. Finn then yawned ostentatiously and Poe blinked rapidly at the sight of well-defined muscle appearing as his shirt rode up.

“Um, I’m—I finally decided to go through Leia’s things,” Poe said.

Finn smiled, and Poe wanted to die. “Yeah, I can see _that_. What, exactly, is so pressing that you’re up at 7 am during _vacation_?” He sounded disgusted, making Poe laugh despite himself.

“Well, I—” Poe said slowly, not exactly sure where this sentence was going.

“Are you—missing her?” Finn asked carefully, dark eyes intent but soft.

Poe was aware that Finn was still wary of Poe backsliding into his post-funeral state, during which he didn’t leave his bed for anything but the bathroom for several days. Apparently realizing that Poe was not up to existing in the world, Finn had brought the world to Poe. They had played chess and watched Finn’s stupid First Order rom-coms in Poe’s bed until the floor had seemed less likely to dissolve under Poe’s feet.

“No,” Poe answered quickly, wanting to assuage those fears as decisively as he could. “Well, yes, but—I just thought it was time.” He gave a little self-deprecating shrug.

He watched nervously as Finn walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of a paper from a messy stack. Finn read it quickly, before looking up at Poe and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I—” Poe tried, brought up short by the way Finn was looking at him: intently, brows drawn together.

“I mean,” Finn hesitated, “you know you can talk to me, right?”

Poe blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Finn nodded once, seemingly satisfied, but then continued to speak, staring at the floor. “I know I must seem kind of—unstable. With everything I said last night.” He was looking up now. “But I’m a good listener.”

Poe thought of how Rey had been when she’d returned home, quiet and jagged, eyeing everyone like they were predators. He thought of how she was now, still quiet but with a stable strength. Slow to smile, but blindingly bright when she did. No doubt Finn, who had spent countless hours talking with her, could be thanked for much of that.

“I know,” Poe said, and he meant it. “I know.”

Finn smiled. “Good,” he said softly. His face shifted into something mischievous, making a soaring crescendo rise in Poe’s ears once again. “Now wait here.”

“Okay,” Poe said slowly.

Finn left at a light jog. Poe thought to himself, stupidly, _I will wait forever_. He shook his head at his own insanity and pretended to look through papers.

Finn returned a moment later, holding something behind his back. Poe made a show of putting a sheet of paper down and quirking an eyebrow. Finn grinned.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said simply, before revealing what appeared to be a complex-looking countertop kitchen appliance and setting in down on Leia’s desk for inspection.

Poe furrowed his brows in confusion, before understanding dawned on him. “Is that—” he asked, awestruck. _A CoffeeMax3000_? _The finest coffee-brewing machine available to the home consumer?_ Holy _shit!_ He moved closer to the machine reverently.

“Not _exactly_ ,” Finn said, “Rey and me fixed up our own version. It’s as good as the real thing, I promise.”

“Finn, that’s…” Poe trailed off, inspecting it up-close, unable to help the pleased grin on his face. “This is _amazing_. This is the nicest thing anyone’s…I can’t believe you did this!” He giggled a bit to himself. “Thank you, bud,” he said, going to hug Finn with a casualness that belied the intensity of his emotions.

They embraced a moment, Poe patting Finn’s back in an attempt to make it strictly a _friend_ hug, strictly a _brotherly_ hug, no, even better, an _avuncular_ one – for Poe was nearly ten years older than Finn, wasn’t he? God, that was angle he hadn’t even considered. Dirty old man angle. The indignities continued to pile on.

“It’s nothing,” Finn said into his ear, and Poe completely lost his train of thought at the simple statement.

Poe became aware that the hug had possibly gone on too long for two platonic bros, even ones that had jerked off in front of each other, and the thought nearly made him snort out a manic cry-laugh. Instead he pulled away and began to busy himself by fiddling with the controls of the machine, suddenly feeling too shy to look at Finn. He didn’t want to give himself away.

“Wanna give it a whirl?” he asked, voice oddly rough. He grinned in what he hoped was a convincing way. “My treat,” he added with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Say what you want about Poe, he always rallied _beautifully._

Finn grinned, clearly pleased that Poe had liked the present. “Yeah, let’s do it,” he said. He went to touch the machine, but was stopped by the sound of something beeping on his person. He dug a small messenger out from his sweatpants pocket, glanced at the screen, made a face, and immediately shoved it back in.

Poe watched, curious. It must have shown on his face, because Finn said, as if it cleared up everything, “Just Jannah.”

“Oh,” Poe said absently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just too early,” Finn said, waving him off. “Let’s have some breakfast.”

***

Poe could read Finn’s surprise as he gestured towards the chess set that evening. Finn was clearly raring to go, and Poe couldn’t blame him, considering how the night before had ended, but Poe was doing his level best to be the responsible adult here. They needed to talk. Very badly. The last time he’d operated on incomplete information, Finn had wound up having a panic attack. He needed to do better, to ask the right questions, so it didn’t happen again.

“I figured,” Poe said, “that we should talk.”

“Right,” Finn said, sitting down and looking anxious. “You probably don’t want to—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Poe said. “I _do_. I said I’d help you, and I will. End of.”

He groped under his bed for his stash of liquor, and found it with a sound of triumph. Finn procured two glasses wordlessly, and Poe sat down next to him and poured two shots of vodka with a flourish. He didn’t know how to have this conversation sober, and was relying very much on the trademark Poe Dameron false bravado to get him through it.

“Let’s do this,” he said, and knocked his own back. Finn followed his lead, with a bit more hesitation. The alcohol burned pleasantly in Poe’s throat, and he was glad for the distraction. He turned to Finn, rubbing at his own jaw sheepishly and pouring another shot out for both himself and his friend. “Okay. So what exactly do you want out of this?”

“That’s—direct,” Finn said, blinking.

The alcohol was beginning. to take the edge off things nicely.

“Communication, my friend,” Poe said, grandly, before draining his glass again. God, he was so full of shit. Sometimes he frightened himself.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Well. I suppose I want to lose my virginity.”

Poe nodded sagely. “I see. The thing is—what does virginity mean to you? Does that mean any sexual act? Penetrative sex? Assisted orgasm?”

Finn was looking down, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the conversation, mutual masturbation session notwithstanding. Poe could feel his own careless façade wearing thin, too.

“Don’t be shy,” Poe said, immediately regretting it. He grinned crookedly at Finn. “Sorry. It’s okay to be shy. Ignore me, please.”

“Penetrative, I think. That’s the—goal,” Finn said, haltingly.

Poe softened immensely at the hesitation in Finn’s voice. It reminded him how difficult this must be for Finn, and how brave he was being.

“Okay. Okay. We can work with that,” Poe said, cringing inwardly at how he was making his friend’s deep-seated, horrible insecurity sound like some sort of business deal. This was a bad idea. Why was he doing this? “Penetrat _ing_ , or being penetrat _ed_?”

Finn looked ashen at the question. “Um, the second—being—um. Yeah.”

Poe tilted a considering brow at his friend. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious. He had expected the former, to build skills or whatever. So he could use his experience with someone else. The thought burned like a red-hot comet through Poe’s brain, even through the building haze of the vodka.

“The First Order always made it look painful,” Finn said quietly, looking down at his drink. He downed it, and Poe couldn’t look away from the column of his throat as he swallowed. Now that sex had been brought into the equation, he didn’t seem able to get it out of his mind. “Like, blood and—hospital visits.”

Poe felt his own face drop. “Jesus _Christ_ , what the fuck is wrong with—? For fuck’s sake.” He shook his head, and then then looked at Finn intently. “Finn,” he said, forcing his voice to be gentle. “It’s not like that, not at all. Not even the most inconsiderate bastard would make you _bleed._ It even feels good, when you do it right.”

“I know. I know that the First Order isn’t a reliable source of information, but—” Finn stuttered. “They made it seem like it was all about power, about having someone at your—at your mercy.” He looked down at his hands.

Poe took one of those hands in his own. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No. No, that’s—that’s not what it’s like, not at all. That was wrong of them,” he said gently. “It’s not about power, not even if you’re into BDSM or any of that. It’s about making your partner feel good, and feeling good in turn. It’s _kind_ , when it’s done right.”

_I’ll do it right_ , Poe tried to promise with his eyes. _I’ll do right by you._

“Thank you,” Finn said quietly. “And thank you for being so patient with me—I know I’m—I’m so inexperienced.”

“That’s okay,” Poe said, smiling warmly. “Everyone has to start somewhere.” He paused, eyeing Finn carefully. “ _Where_ , exactly, are we starting from, here?” he asked cautiously.

“Um,” Finn said. “I haven’t done _anything_. Never really been touched by anyone else, or touched anyone myself.” He eyed Poe nervously.

The thought was—stirring something, a great cat in Poe’s chest, making it purr contentedly. He liked the idea, and whether or not that was healthy seemed unclear.

“That’s okay, too,” he said, trying not to show how pleased he was. God, he was going to hell for this. “So, here’s the plan: we’ll work up to penetration, something different every night. We’ll do—we’ll do handjobs and blowjobs and all that,” Poe couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, “and then you’ll fuck me, and I’ll fuck you. Sound good?”

“Ye—yeah,” Finn said, looking both like he would either burst out laughing or in tears. Poe, exhaling like he’d just pulled off an especially tricky aerial maneuver, poured two more shots, handed one to Finn, clinked their glasses together, and downed another. Finn eyed his own with distaste, but eventually drank it with a grimace.

“Well, that’s settled,” Poe said. “Let’s play chess.”

Fuck. _Fuck._ His mind was _reeling_ , even as he moved his pawn forward in the first move of the game.

He was in so much trouble.

***

The next day, Poe went to the training grounds in a pensive mood. The three cups of _CoffeeMax3000_ he’d chugged had only served to make him feel jittery and stretched thin instead of perky and refreshed. Sometimes he felt sure his left eye was twitching. Everything was fine. He wasn’t thinking about last night, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about _tonight_. What were they going to work on? _Handjobs, maybe_ , he thought, with a touch of the hysterical.

Delighted cheers were the first thing from the training ground to reach his ears. As he approached, many people greeted him by his new rank and it made him cringe a little bit every time he heard it. They all seemed happy enough to see him, but he was not, however, the main source of the crowd’s effervescence. It was Finn and Rey, dueling with lightsabers, that were eliciting all the cheers and shouts. Rey was in her usual all-white desert gear, hopping around Finn like a particularly vicious little bird. Finn, in deference to the weather, had stripped down to his white sleeveless undershirt, muscles rippling hypnotically as he watched Rey with eyes that reminded Poe of a bored lion. He was hoping, Poe supposed, that she would get tired out and lose the lithe speed that was advantageous to the smaller challenger in any fight. Then he could use his— _size_ to quickly overpower her.

The thought settled oddly in Poe’s stomach.

His _size._ Poe could practically _feel_ his eyes dilate as he watched. Finn’s muscular thighs bunched as he lunged and dodged, and Poe couldn’t help his sudden vision of Finn using those thighs to fuck his mouth until he cried. Arousal swooped low and sickening in his stomach, and he dragged a hand through his hair to try and redirect his mind, but the floodgates had opened: images of those thighs fucking into him, of those arms pinning him down. Poe had always known that Finn was bigger than him, stronger than him, but it proved, right in front of his face, that Finn could hold him down and do whatever he liked to him and Poe couldn’t stop him, would just have to _take it_ —

“You look like shit,” came a voice from beside him, startling him nearly to death.

“ _Jesus_ , Rose!” he exclaimed. “You _scared_ me!”

“Sorry, I assumed you’d known I was here. I _am_ standing basically right in front of you,” she said, plainly unimpressed. She was sipping some sort of fruity-looking beverage and looking up at him with a strange expression on her face. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” he practically grunted, turning his attention once more to the fight. Finn was on the offensive now, bearing down on Rey with a single-minded intensity that Poe had never seen before. Poe traced his lower lip with two fingers. “I’m fine.”

“I think you might be in the early stages of heat stroke,” Rose said thoughtfully.

“It’s just—hot,” he said unconvincingly, looking over at her.

She raised her eyebrows. “I bet.”

Poe blinked. “What does that—”

Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of her drink. “It _means_ , General,” she said, “that you’re looking at Finn with a rather wolfish expression.”

Blanching, Poe tried, “I’m not—”

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Rose interrupted, voice soft and kind. “It _is_ a nice change from your usual dog-begging-at-the-table look.”

Poe exhaled harshly, suddenly exhausted. God, she _knew_. He fancied he could feel the circles under his eyes slowly succumbing to gravity. 

Finally, he spoke. “He’s not interested,” he said softly, staring at Finn as he and Rey circled each other during an impasse. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

Poe shook his head.

“Poe,” Rose said meaningfully. “ _Poe_.”

The only way he could respond was by scrubbing his face roughly with his hands.

“Look, I don’t know much about love, but anyone with eyes can see that you two are, like, _devoted_ to each other,” she said matter-of-factly.

“There are different _types_ of devoted,” Poe said tightly.

“And which one are you?” she asked flatly.

Her question hung in the air between them. Poe couldn’t respond.

“You should tell him,” she said. Poe looked at her like she had sprouted another head. “You _should_.” She went a bit quiet, and sighed. “Somehow we survived this. I don’t know how, or why it was us that survived. But I can’t help but feel that we’re obligated, somehow, to use our second chance right, since the price was so high.”

Poe frowned thoughtfully, looking out on the grounds with a blank expression.

Poe had always been the type to make deals with God, or the Force, or whatever was floating beyond this world. _Just let me survive this and I’ll build a shrine to you. Let me make this shot and I’ll never ask for anything again. Let my squadron come out of this alive and I’ll devote my life to helping the poor._ Sometimes he even imagined that there was someone listening.

But he’d never even dared to ask for Finn, not in any way, shape, or form.

“Maybe you’re right, Rose,” he said. “I certainly never—never thought I would get this.”

Rose smiled brilliantly, and they watched together as Finn and Rey continued to spar in the sweltering heat.

***

Poe had given Rose’s words a lot of thought. The more he thought about them, the more they made sense. In this fucked up universe, some god had looked down on him benevolently. By some miracle, Poe was getting what he had asked for, what he had dreamed of for what felt like his entire life. Not everyone was so lucky. Poe knew this. What sort of ungrateful idiot would he be, then, what sort of churlish _fool_ , if he didn’t enjoy this? He resolved to take what he could get, and be thankful for it. He would luxuriate in anything Finn wanted to offer him. This, he thought to himself, this was his opportunity, his _only_ opportunity, to touch what he had no right to.

Now, kissing Finn on his cramped bunk, he thought to himself: _If I can just have this, if I have this to cling to, I can manage going on alone._

They had been kissing, leisurely and softly, for some time, side by side on Finn’s bed. Poe delighted in feeling Finn slowly gain confidence, though it might have been the nice bottle of red wine Poe had cracked open for the occasion, instead of any skill Poe possessed. In all honesty, it had been a while since Poe had kissed someone in such an unhurried fashion and he felt a little like he was losing his mind. When they had started, he had been a bit wine-fuzzy in the most pleasant way, his thoughts softened around the edges, and it had only gotten worse as they had continued. Like he was in all other things, Finn seemed to be a quick study, and, frankly, Poe was worried for his own health. Anytime Poe moaned into the kiss, anytime his breath hitched, he could practically see Finn catalog it away for further reference.

As of right now, Finn had once more taken control of the kiss, licking into Poe’s mouth gently as Poe had done to him the other day. The air seemed thick and heavy, Finn almost _too_ close. His lips felt bruised. They had been kissing for too long, and Poe never wanted it to end. He shifted himself and tugged on Finn’s bicep to indicate that he should move, and they maneuvered themselves together so that Finn was on top of Poe. Poe let his legs fall open, moaning at the sensation, and ran his hands down Finn’s back. They stopped kissing, though they were still close enough that Poe could feel Finn’s stuttered exhale against his lips.

“Oh,” Finn breathed.

Poe could only nod, eyes shut tight, lost in the way Finn’s hips slotted up against his perfectly. His own cock, which was already hard as a fucking _rock,_ brushed up against Finn’s, and he couldn’t help the soft little whimper he made at the sensation. Finn was—hard. The thought stuttered through Poe’s brain like a cruiser nearly out of fuel. He understood that he was widely regarded as an attractive person, above average in terms of handsomeness at least, but to have confirmation, such _robust_ confirmation, that the man he loved wanted him? That he had the ability to make someone he desired more than air desire him in return? It was—it was too much.

When he opened his eyes, he was momentarily taken aback by Finn’s expression: his lips kiss-swollen, his eyes all hooded and dark, his jaw clenched. If the situation had been different, Poe would have begged Finn to fuck him right then. He felt half-liquid, all hot and cold, dazed and aching and spinning out.

“What do you want?” he murmured to Finn, his voice achingly loving even to his own ears. Poe briefly regained the presence of mind to worry how much of himself he was revealing to Finn without knowing. A sort of muted panic, one who was too wrung out to truly feel, hit him: was it possible for something of the way he felt to have been revealed to Finn? Some of his desperation surely must have leaked into his kiss. Some of his affection.

Finn’s face had gone all shy, and Poe felt another dam in his heart give out. God, just leave him to _die_. Let his heart overflow or explode or whatever the fuck hearts did when an emotion is too big to fit. _Say anything,_ Poe thought, his mind racing feverishly, _say anything and I will give it to you_.

“Can I,” Finn began shyly, “can I touch you?”

Poe looked stupidly down at their bodies, flush against one another, about to say something idiotic like, _You are touching me_ , when he realized what his friend meant. “You want to—my cock?” he asked nonsensically, though Finn, nodding with a glazed sort of expression, seemed to understand what he was saying. “Of—of course. Please. I—yeah. Yeah. Go crazy.”

Finn pressed his lips together, looking a bit nervous, and sat up on his heels in between Poe’s legs.

“Hey,” Poe said, suddenly remembering the reality of the situation. Finn fixed him with a wide-eyed stare, vulnerable and sweet. “You’re doing great. Go as slow as you need. Any time you want to stop, this stops, okay?”

Finn nodded nervously, but made no move toward Poe.

Hoping to encourage him, Poe undid his belt buckle, the metallic clink in the otherwise silent room making arousal swoop low in his stomach. Finn was watching his hands with a glazed sort of expression. By the time he reached his flies, Poe was practically shaking. He took a deep breath to gather himself and slowly removed his pants and briefs and threw them aside. Laying back in only his white button-up, he swallowed thickly, watching Finn’s right hand twitch minutely as he looked down at him. He seemed huge from this angle, sitting back on his heels, looking down at Poe, half-naked, waiting for him to take what was already his. It was gratifying, the way Finn’s expression tipped toward awe as he gazed down at him, but Poe was growing impatient. He was hard, already leaking, about to rip his own goddamn hair out.

“Please, Finn,” he begged.

Finn looked up at Poe’s face, almost startled. He exhaled shakily, and reached his hand forward hesitantly. Finally, after what felt like hours, Poe watched as a blunt thumb circled the head of his cock gently, drawing a pleasured hiss from him. Relief, if only for a second, if only for the desire to be ratcheted up another notch after. Poe fought not to push up into the tentative touch, not to scare Finn off. He was doing so well. Seemingly encouraged by the sounds Poe was making, Finn wrapped the entirety of his enormous hand around Poe’s cock in a firm but considerate grip, his palm warm and soft and enveloping.

“Hah,” Poe breathed, panting so hard he thought he might pass out. All this slow and gentle and tentative was _not_ what he was used to, and if he hadn’t known better, he might have thought Finn was doing it on purpose.

Finn bit his lip and looked up at Poe as if to ask him what that sound had meant. Poe nearly came all over himself at the innocent expression on his perfect face.

“That’s…that’s good,” Poe managed. “Try to stroke it a bit.”

His eyes fluttered shut as Finn’s hand began to work up and down his length, pausing only, in a moment of initiative Poe could only applaud, to gather some pre-cum and spread it carefully.

“Oh, Jesus,” Poe muttered, letting his head fall back on the bed in defeat. Finn continued to stroke him, more experimentally than with any real intent, and Poe was content for the moment to let the sensations wash over him softly.

“Okay,” Poe said after a moment, his voice a little unsteady. Finn’s hand paused where it was. Poe blinked at it uncertainly. “Now we want make things a bit wetter. Some people like using lube, but I think spit will work fine for our purposes.”

Finn nodded once, spit on his hand in a very workmanlike way, making Poe shiver, and smoothed it along Poe’s cock. Poe inhaled sharply at the sensation, unable to keep his hips from bucking into Finn’s touch. Finn continued his rhythm from before, every now and then adding a little twist that Poe figured he must use on himself. The thought sent a shot of arousal down his spine, and he could feel himself starting to go a little feral in the way that meant he was on the sure road to orgasm.

“Little firmer,” he said, breathless. He placed his hand over Finn’s and demonstrated briskly. After a moment, Finn seemed to get it and he let his hand fall away. Poe’s hips were jerking up in time to meet his hand. He could feel it coiling in his stomach, tightening up like a spring. He wanted to ask Finn to kiss him, but wasn’t sure he could get it out without spilling his emotions all over everything. Instead, he said, to try and open the door, “You can…you can use your other hand to touch me if you want.”

“Sorry,” Finn said, wincing. His hand began to slow, and his expression shuttered a bit.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” Poe said, a little too urgent. He tried again, his voice more gentle. “Please don’t stop. What you’re doing is perfect. Just didn’t want you to…to feel like it was off-limits, that’s all.” He smiled reassuringly, though the way he was panting made it difficult.

Finn’s hand returned, and began to stroke Poe with more confidence.

Poe sighed. “Yes, that’s,” he said, mindless, “that’s so good.” He watched with hooded eyes as Finn spat into his hand again, working his length and, this time, using his other hand to fondle Poe’s balls lightly. “You’re a. You’re a fast learner,” Poe managed, moving his hands to grip at the sheets on Finn’s bed. He was burning up now, his hips moving helplessly along with the pace Finn was setting.

Finn grinned at the praise, and Poe wished he could kiss him. He closed his eyes against the urge. Kissing would only confuse him more. Kissing would be bad for his self-preservation.

His hips began snapping up sharply, his whole body winding tighter and tighter with each wet stroke. Pleasure crackled and popped in his veins like a house on fire.

“Finn,” he said, almost apprehensive. “Finn, you’re gonna make me come. I—oh God, Finn, yes, yes.”

Finn loomed over him, then, all of the sudden, his hand still working away. He kissed Poe, a little clumsy but still delicious, and Poe returned it for a moment before the perfect slick-slide of a downward stroke made him moan loudly.

“This…okay?” Finn panted, his eyes dark.

“Yeah, yeah, yes,” Poe replied fervently, moving to embrace Finn, to crowd his body against Finn’s. They kissed again briefly, the heat inside Poe mounting and mounting. His hips began to lose their rhythm, a sick-hot tidal wave of shivering pleasure overtaking him. He moaned silently, shoving his face into Finn’s neck as his body shuddered and jerked, cum getting all over Finn’s hand and his own stomach. He clung tightly to Finn for a moment as he waited for the aftershocks to pass, shaking.

When it was over, Poe slumped back a bit, feeling wrung out and contented. Finn was regarding him with a mixture of shock and arousal, and he brought his hand up to his face to look at the cum splattered across it. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fixed on the white fluid. Something about his expression made a slow grin spread across Poe’s face, and Finn shifted his gaze to look at him with the same shocked look.

Poe laughed, then, loud and happy, wrapping his arms around his friend for a simple hug. Finn began to laugh, too, and Poe rocked them from side to side, so filled with earnest affection he thought he might burst. He even managed to mostly ignore the still-hard length of Finn’s cock against his thigh.

“Oh my god,” Finn muttered, disbelieving.

“You’re a fucking natural, man,” Poe said, his voice still a little shaky with post-orgasmic haze and laughter.

Finn was unable to stop the smug smile spreading across his face, though he was clearly trying, and Poe patiently waited for the urge to kiss him to pass.

“Ugh, get off me,” Poe said, shoving at his friend, trying to make things normal and friendly, friend- _like_ , again. He was very impressed at how light he had managed to make his voice. Finn grinned and rolled to one side. Poe stretched happily and said, mainly to himself, “Got to clean up.”

“Oh,” Finn said, as if he’d forgotten something. He got off the bed and returned with a towel, noting Poe’s wide-eyed expression with confusion. “What?”

“I could’ve…” Poe trailed off, watching as Finn gently wiped his stomach. For all that Finn had just been touching his cock, the intimacy of the action made him shiver. A sort of warmth blossomed in his chest. “Thank you,” Poe said quietly.

Finn just smiled sweetly and flopped down on the bed next to Poe. Poe could see the bulge in Finn’s trousers and suddenly, strangely, felt the desire to tell Finn everything. How he felt about him. How he wanted them to be together. How the only thing he wanted was to make him happy. Poe couldn’t, though, especially not now. He blinked at the ceiling. He wanted to do something for Finn – to make him feel good. That, he could do. That, he could do in spades.

“First lesson,” Poe said cavalierly, “ _Complete_.”

He turned to Finn and saw he looked pensive.

“Now, let’s move on to blowjobs. I,” Poe said, “will demonstrate.” 

His bluntness had the desired effect, and Finn stared at him with wide-eyed shock. Poe shrugged glibly. He was teaching him, after all. Tutoring him.

Poe moved off the bed and knelt down beside it. He gestured silently for Finn to come to the side of the bed.

Finn obeyed, but looked perplexed. “Shouldn’t I…?”

“Pants off,” Poe said briskly, ignoring him, nearly salivating at the thought of getting his mouth on Finn’s cock. “Porn gives you very little idea about how blowjobs actually work. I’ll demonstrate, and you…observe. Besides, a handjob of that caliber deserves a bit of positive reinforcement, I think,” Poe grinned.

Finn flushed, clearly pleased, but a bit apprehensive, even as he was unbuckling his belt. Poe himself couldn’t even gauge what percentage full of shit he currently was, so he didn’t blame Finn for not _entirely_ following his reasoning.

The pants came off, and Poe immediately felt all his pretense and bluster fall away. He’d known Finn was gorgeous, obviously, he had _eyes_ , but seeing him like this…he was a _sight._ Poe swallowed thickly. Finn seemed _raw_ , beautiful, his body coiled with muscle not from gym-toned vanity, but from actual _use_. But he just sat there, a little nervous, a little excited, his best friend. His cock was nicely sized, uncut, not quite as long as Poe’s, but with more girth. It bobbed between Finn’s legs heavily, and Poe wanted it so badly he thought he might scream. Finn’s hands curled anxiously into the bedspread as Poe shuffled slightly forward.

Poe smoothed his own hands along the top of Finn’s thighs, which were spread to accommodate him. He felt like he was being hypnotized, his body taking over while his mind reveled remotely. Licking and nosing his way along Finn’s inner thigh, he heard Finn’s breath hitch nicely. He glanced up, and saw Finn looking down at him with hooded eyes. He felt a little how he did when his plane had been crashing into the desert sand of Jakku.

Poe palmed Finn’s cock lightly. “You can tease a bit,” he said, grasping it lightly before licking a broad stripe up the underside and sucking gently at the head.

“Hah,” Finn breathed, nearly shooting up at the sensation. He was panting now, and something possessive in Poe’s chest curled contentedly. Could Rose do that? Could Rey do that? No, no—but Poe could. Poe could provide this.

“Watch your teeth, but don’t worry too much about it,” he said thoughtfully, swirling his thumb around the head lightly. “Though your,” he stumbled, “your partner might like teeth, actually.”

Trying to ignore _that_ particular thought, he tongued at Finn’s foreskin experimentally, and Finn moaned.

“Yeah, tell me,” Poe said, “Tell me what feels good. Communication is – yeah.”

Poe wasn’t sure how long he could continue giving advice, vague and useless though it may have been. He needed his mouth back on him. He wrapped his hand around Finn’s cock and eased the foreskin back before guiding him into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the head before abandoning the project in favor of getting him further into his mouth. Flattening his tongue, Poe moved forward until his lips touched his hand where it grasped Finn. He purposefully took him in a bit too far, letting him bump the back of his throat, flooding his mouth with saliva. He was vaguely aware of Finn moaning softly, curling his body over him.

Pulling off, Poe began to pump Finn firmly, wet and slick and shiny. Finn moaned, “Oh my god, oh god, _Poe_.” Poe, still regaining his breath, looked up at him. He would show Finn. He would show Finn how good he could make it, he would show Finn how much he loved him, and Finn would understand that no one could make him feel like Poe could, no one could love him like Poe could.

Finn’s big cock was in his mouth and he was bobbing his head in unison with his hand, and he was starting to feel himself go all loose and pliant. Finn’s hands traveled to his head, resting in his hair lightly, and he couldn’t help the pleased moan that escaped at their warm weight. His friend, startled, immediately removed his hands.

Poe pulled off him, panting. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I liked it,” he said, desperate to get his thought across and unsure if he was succeeding. “Pull if you want.” He knew Finn wouldn’t take advantage of his permission.

He barely got the words out before he returned to Finn’s cock. Something in him felt desperate and he wanted—he wanted—he didn’t know what he wanted, so all he could do was redouble his efforts, uncaring of how he choked on Finn’s cock every now and then. Finn, for his part, was doing very well: he’d listened to Poe’s request and had not only returned his hands, but was working them through Poe’s hair gently, tugging just a little bit, and Poe whimpered loudly at the sensation. Finn startled once more, but continued anyway. He was also being very considerate with thrusting, moving in tiny, tight circles along with the rhythm Poe had set.

“Oh god, _Poe_ ,” Finn moaned. Poe looked up. Finn was looking down at him, watching with glazed wonder as his cock passed through Poe’s lips again and again. Saliva was starting to run down Poe’s chin, but he didn’t care. He simply moaned, mouth full, his eyes watering. Finn’s expression turned pained and he seemed to be holding his hips back with greater effort now. “I knew,” he was murmuring, “I knew you would show me, I knew you would make me feel good, I knew, I knew…”

This seemingly innocuous bit of pillow-talk felt like a bucket of cold water being thrown on Poe, bringing him back to the harsh reality of their arrangement. He pulled off Finn, gasping for air. He could imagine how he looked then, saliva dripping from his chin, eyes tearing up, just fucking gagging for it. _Poe the slut. Poe’s easy. Poe’s up for it._ This certainly hadn’t been part of the plan. He had wanted to stay submerged in the push-pull of sex, floating and soft and hazy.

Poe, feeling dejected, looked up at Finn, who was also panting. His eyes were dark and hooded, but somehow soft, almost liquid in the low light of Finn’s room. How did he do that? How did he manage to stay so soft, so warm in the midst of this? Why could he be good and clean when it came to sex, and Poe couldn’t? Why could he look at Poe like he was good and clean, and Poe couldn’t?

Poe watched, uncomprehending, as Finn curled over him, some unnamed emotion on his face. His mouth slightly open in confusion, Poe looked up at him. Finn’s hand tilted Poe’s chin up gently as he brought his lips closer to Poe’s. Poe sighed gently, utterly lost, letting Finn’s hands shift to cradle his face on either side. His eyes fluttered shut and Finn kissed him, kissed him like he was something precious, something sacred, thumbs stroking his face gently. Poe let out a noise like a wounded animal, soft and vulnerable, and kissed him back. It quickly deepened, the desperation Poe had felt earlier creeping back slowly, and when Finn licked into his mouth, it felt like a live flame was travelling up his spine. Poe was drowning, unable to do anything but blindly return Finn’s kiss, even though his neck was beginning to ache from the awkward angle. He felt as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart and he was bleeding all over everything. The heat of tears burned behind his eyes as they continued to kiss.

They broke apart for air and Finn’s eyes roved over Poe’s face searchingly. Poe was suddenly thankful for how his eyes had been watering.

“You’re so good,” Finn murmured, almost sounding confused. “You’re so good.”

Poe blinked, his emotions so jumbled and jagged that he couldn’t begin to make sense of them, let alone incorporate _praise_ from _Finn._ He kissed Finn instead, caught between wanting to express his every soaring desire in his kiss and wanting to slam the brakes before he could travel any further down this self-destructive spiral. If there were ever a time to press the eject button, it was this.

In the end, Poe took this as his opportunity to de-escalate things, emotionally, desperate that Finn not see him cry. It would probably scar him for life and he’d never touch anyone ever again. The clouds in his head cleared at this.

Poe redirected his attentions to where his hand still lay on Finn’s cock. He began to pump his hand again, nipping gently at Finn’s lips. Finn exhaled shakily and fell back to his original position.

“You can thrust, you know,” Poe said quietly, not looking at Finn. He focused on how the velvet head of Finn’s cock felt under the slick slide of his hand instead.

“What?” Finn asked stupidly.

“Just go slow at first,” Poe requested, amazed at his own casualness. He began licking at Finn’s cock again, before taking it back into his mouth. A few passes later, they were much as they were earlier, Poe half-delirious, Finn moaning and murmuring low praise.

His hips hitched up helplessly, making Poe gag.

“Sorry,” Finn panted, looking absolutely wrecked.

Poe pulled off again, coughing a little, but continuing to pump his hand.

“No, I want it, just warn me,” he said, his voice sounding rough now. “I want it. Just,” he hesitated, “just take what you need. Take what you need.”

He again took Finn’s cock into his mouth, and Finn responded by gently, _very_ gently, rocking his hips forward. Poe moaned his approval, encouraging Finn with a hand on his arse. Finn repeated the motion, still tightly controlled but with more confidence, and Poe felt his eyes go half-shut, felt his throat relax, felt the rest of the world go all hazy. He felt like he was moving through molasses, blissful and slow, as Finn fucked into his mouth, his strong thighs taut and tense where Poe’s hands were touching them. Arousal was lighting in his blood, though he knew he wouldn’t get hard again, and something sick-hot and brilliant surged through him as Finn all but grabbed fistfuls of his hair. Poe whimpered again, letting the many sensations—the sharp tug on his scalp, the blood-hot warmth of Finn’s skin, the thick cock shoving into his slack, wide-open mouth, the pleased rumble of Finn’s moan—carry him like a wave. The idea of letting Finn do this, letting Finn use him like this, was thrilling.

Finn’s thrusts went a little uneven, but Poe was prepared for it, breathing evenly through his nose and looking up at him with big eyes. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes squeezed shut. “Poe, I’m— _fuck._ Fuck, I’m gonna come, I—do you—is it okay—”

Poe whimpered, hoping Finn would get the message.

Finn grunted in reply, thrusting stiffly, his hips and thighs completely taut, panting and moaning. He went completely still, then, spilling hot cum into Poe’s mouth, down his throat, and Poe backed off, swallowing what he could and letting the rest go down his chin. He coughed a little and continued to pump Finn lightly, working him through the soft tremors that followed his orgasm. Finn was panting like he’d just run a marathon, dark eyes watching Poe lap gently at his now-soft cock.

“Oh my—fuck,” Finn said abruptly, blinking down at him. 

Poe wiped his mouth gracelessly, and smiled up at him. Finn curled over him again and kissed him gently. He then melted off the bed and onto the floor, looking wrung out and laughing softly. Poe shifted off of his knees to sit next to him against the bed.

Finn turned to look at him, his expression warm. “You okay?” he asked quietly. He frowned and touched Poe’s jaw lightly. Poe’s heart very nearly stopped at the soft touch. “I didn’t…hurt you or anything?”

Poe smiled brilliantly. “No, you did great. Very considerate.” He paused. His voice was scrapingly raw. “It was good?”

Finn laughed at loud. “Yeah, it was—it was fantastic,” he said, smiling to himself. “Here, you lay down and let me get you some water. You sound sick.”

“Yeah,” Poe drawled lazily, suddenly exhausted. The sleepless night was finally starting to catch up with him. “Sick in the head. For being friends with you.”

Finn snorted, getting up and going to his mini-fridge. “You’re an idiot.”

Poe climbed up onto the bed and curled up against the wall. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he should be freaking out, and that there would be hell to pay when he finally came to his senses, but for now, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He fell asleep before Finn even returned with the water.

***

Finn woke up with contentment settled warm in his bones. He smiled when he thought of the night before and stretched luxuriously. Poe was breathing softly next to him, curled to one side. Finn looked at him, feeling an almost unbearable fondness. There was something different, now, about his friend, something softer and sweeter, now that Finn had been so close to him.

Everything had progressed so quickly he’d hardly had time to think about it. The idea that, a few days ago, he hadn’t believed he’d ever have the chance to be intimate with someone now seemed ridiculous. But he remembered that dark, sad feeling well, and a surge of gratefulness towards Poe rose in his chest. He had been such a good friend to him, and even though Finn was proud of the _CoffeeMax3000_ , it still seemed like an inadequate gift.

Finn thought frequently about what Rey had said, how Finn was maybe giving too much of himself away, but he had been forced to discount it at every turn. Poe had named him, that was true, but he had never taken advantage of him, not even when Finn had asked him this very private and sensitive favor. Far from it, Poe had only been patient, and giving, and considerate. He had gotten Finn through a panic attack without batting an eyelash, and built up Finn’s confidence so that he felt secure in his decisions as they were having sex. Finn had always imagined that his first time would be horribly awkward, that _he_ would be horribly awkward, unable to overcome his insecurities. But it hadn’t been like that at all, not since that first night. They’d laughed and kissed and everything went pretty smoothly. He supposed a lot of that might be due to Poe, and not just because of his experience but because of who he _was_.

That’s what he’d meant when he’d clumsily said, “You’re so good.” He’d meant that he was amazed at the way Poe always seemed willing to give everything he had, even at his own expense. He’d meant that he was awestruck at the way Poe would gladly put himself on the line for anyone he had devoted himself to.

Finn thought back to when they first met, when Poe had been resisting Kylo Ren’s torture. He had been so brave, a type of brave that Finn had never seen before. Finn hadn’t understood, then, where it had come from, but now he knew: it was _devotion_. It was _love_. The only bravery Finn had ever seen until that moment had been fueled by hatred, or blind duty, or fear of being seen as weak. Never from anything positive. Never from love.

In that moment, when he had first looked at the sweaty, blood-covered, grinning pilot, Finn had felt his life begin. What he had known deep in his heart for years had become startingly clear: he needed to get out. He needed to follow this man. Something in him had cracked open, and he couldn’t imagine being on that ship for one more _minute_. It was like he’d been unknowingly maneuvering in the dark, unaware of the possibility of light, and suddenly—sunrise.

And maybe Rey was right; maybe that was dangerous. Finn was, obviously, entirely unpracticed when it came to relationships of any description. All he could say was this: something about Poe felt safe, and warm, and Finn was going to bask in it for as long as he could.

The buzz of his messenger, on the nightstand, interrupted his thoughts. He quietly checked it, sitting up, and sighed to himself. It was Jannah again.

_J: Convoy refueling in a week. Returning to base in a few days. Are you in?_

It was the latest in a slew of unanswered messages. Jannah had somehow learned of a convoy of kidnapped kids—the fractured First Order trying to rebuild its ranks—while refueling on some desert planet. She’d figured out that they were still carrying out raids in outpost planets, but didn’t have the firepower to raze the communities after the fact.

_J: We could return them to their families. We have the chance to help them._

Finn couldn’t bring himself to answer. He didn’t understand why. He wanted to help, he really did, but every time Jannah messaged him, he felt something in himself shut down. He didn’t want to think about the First Order and he didn’t want to think about the Troopers and he didn’t want to think about being a child again. He had left all that behind. Now, he was with the Resistance and his friends and he was happy. Why should he, dry and warm on shore, dive back into those dark waters again?

As of right now, he was passing for normal. People were aware of who he was and where he’d come from, but they didn’t _know_. They didn’t look at him and see a damaged child, a former enemy; they looked at him and saw their friend, their leader. Sure, he’d talked a bit about it with Rey and Jannah, because they had gone through similar experiences, but if he helped Jannah, everyone in the Resistance would get involved, and they would _know_. And if they went down that wormhole, Finn couldn’t control what they found out. Perhaps, if they inquired further, it would dawn on them that Finn might have killed one of their comrades. That he might have hurt someone they loved. That he may as well have. The two spheres of his life would collide, and they’d see all that had happened to him, all that he had _done_ , and they would finally realize that they had let an enemy soldier into their ranks. Poe, who had dedicated his life to the Resistance, who was devoted to it, would see Finn for what he was. He wouldn’t turn on him, or kick him out, because he was too kind for that, but there would be a wedge between them, a distance, only, unlike with Exegol, this time it would be permanent.

Poe snuffled and shifted next to him. His eyes opened and he looked confused for a moment. He sat up suddenly, his hair curly and mussed, his eyes sleep-soft.

“I fell asleep,” he said grouchily.

Finn smiled, unable to stop himself. “Yeah,” he laughed.

Poe’s face melted into a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he said, “You could have woken me up and kicked me out.”

Finn shrugged. “You seemed tired.”

“Thanks,” Poe replied, looking as if he were finally approaching full consciousness. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Wanna get some coffee?” Finn asked. He was careful not to touch Poe’s body with his as he got up. Poe remained in bed a moment longer, staring into space.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice rough. Finn, in the middle of putting on pants, looked at him a moment, but Poe had already gotten up and begun dressing himself, not facing at Finn. “Lemme take a shower first and I’ll meet you, okay?”

He left. Finn felt oddly dejected. He took a shower himself, and met Poe in the cafeteria 20 minutes later. He seemed wide-awake now, sipping on his coffee and smiling when he saw Finn.

“Guess where I got this coffee,” he said conspiratorially, as Finn sat next to him.

Finn laughed. “I think you have a caffeine addiction.”

“How dare you.”

“Is _that_ the drug you were running with what’s-her-name?”

“ _With what’s-her-name_?” Poe laughed.

Finn wasn’t sure what had made him bring her up. He had taken a real dislike to her and he wasn’t sure why. He guessed she had represented, in that brief moment, Poe’s varied and wild life experience, and he had been very jealous of that. Now he knew that she was simply someone Poe had had to work with while undercover, but the impression remained.

“You two seemed close,” Finn said lightly.

Poe snorted, and looked at him oddly. “Don’t worry, buddy, my friendship with Zorii couldn’t hold a candle to you,” he said. His hair was wet and neatly combed and the effect was startling. Finn scowled to himself. “She still doesn’t know I was undercover.”

“ _Zorii_ ,” Finn said, feeling it out. “What kind of a name is that?” 

“Poe is a weird name, too,” Poe said thoughtfully.

“I like your name,” Finn protested, unaccountably annoyed. He frowned. “At least you have one. I don’t even know my real name.”

“Your real name is Finn,” Poe said flatly.

Again, Finn wasn’t sure why he said that, or why he was feeling this way. He had woken up in a good mood. Now he felt on-edge, ready to snap at anything. He blamed Jannah. She had dredged it all up, and now he couldn’t stop picking at it, like a healing scab or something.

When Finn didn’t reply, Poe asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He took a deep breath, deliberately trying to change his mood. “What are you doing today?”

“Well,” Poe said slowly, “we have that strategy meeting, later.”

“Oh, right,” Finn said. “Did we ever finalize what we would say about Kylo Ren?”

They spent the rest of breakfast bickering about whether they should say that Kylo “redeemed himself” or simply “sacrificed himself.” Finn thought the former, because he _did_ save Rey’s life, but Poe thought it was far too kind.

Finn was very successful at shaking off the strange mood he’d been in that morning, until, that is, his messenger buzzed again.

_J: Finn????_

Finn scowled, unaware that Poe was watching him.

“Everything okay, bud?” he asked, his dark brows knit together in concern.

“Yeah, it’s – it’s just Jannah,” Finn said shortly, unwilling to elaborate further. The absolute last thing he wanted was for Poe to get involved. Not only would his deepest anxieties possibly come true, but Poe would also insist that Finn go on the raid with Jannah, because it was the right thing to do. Finn already _knew_ that, and didn’t want to be called out on it.

He shoved the messenger in his pocket. Why couldn’t she leave it?

“Finn, what’s going on?” Poe asked. “Are you two fighting?”

“No, I told you, it’s nothing,” Finn huffed.

“It’s clearly not _nothing_ ,” Poe said. There was a glint of hurt, or something, in his eyes, and Finn couldn’t understand why.

“Poe—just—can you just forget it?” Finn said, exasperated. He sighed, and went to stand up. “I’m going to go train with Rey.”

Finn could hardly look at Poe as he got up to leave. When he did glance guiltily at his friend, his face was carefully blank save for his mouth, lips pressed together like he’d been chastised. Finn didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so he just left without saying anything.

***

Finn, after a tough session with Rey, felt marginally better. He’d apologize to Poe and somehow figure out what to do about Jannah. Everything would be okay.

He stepped into the shower with an exaggerated sigh of relief. His muscles ached, and the day was already weighing heavily on him. The only thing getting him through the day was the thought of what might happen that night. It seemed to be the sole bright spot in the morass of anxiety that was currently his life. Was that—wrong of him?

He let his hands wander softly over his body. Would Poe touch him like that? Would he use his mouth again?

Finn sighed. The image of Poe on his knees in front of him had been haunting him all night and all day. Poe had looked…happy. Like he was actually enjoying himself. The concept seemed very strange to Finn, who had only ever thought of blowjobs as something to be endured by those who gave them. The First Order, at least, had done everything in its power to give that impression to its male Troopers.

But now he wondered.

Now, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Poe would be gentle with him, would touch his jaw softly as he fed his cock into Finn’s mouth. Finn thought about what Poe must taste like, how the weight of him would feel on Finn’s tongue. He would be at Poe’s mercy completely. Finn swallowed thickly at the thought, doing his best to shove it aside. He and Poe weren’t _dating_. He didn’t have the right to fantasize about him. He was sure that if Poe knew, he’d rescind his agreement immediately. Finn turned the water’s temperature down and finished washing up as quickly and mechanically as possible.

His self-recriminations, however, seemed to do very little. The thought of sucking Poe’s cock had lodged itself in Finn’s brain, an endless loop of obscene images. He walked into the command room for the strategy meeting feeling like his skin was buzzing. Poe was already there, lovely in the afternoon sun coming through the windows, covered with a thin sheen of sweat because of the heat. He smiled at Finn, and Finn felt his knees go a little weak. It seemed to him that they had both tacitly agreed to forget about that morning.

“Greetings, General,” Poe said to him, making room at the head of the conference table.

Finn laughed, far more breathily than he’d intended, and sat down next to him. He was terribly aware of the way Poe’s forearm was only inches from his own. Finn wondered how he was ever supposed to behave normally around him again, now that he’d—now that they’d— _Jesus_. He was being unprofessional. He was being a bad friend. But he wanted, so badly, to lick up the column of Poe’s neck from where his crisp white shirt collar lay to where his five o’clock shadow began.

“General,” he replied. He licked his lips involuntarily, and noted the way Poe’s eyes flicked down at the motion.

Poe cleared his throat, and turned to the group to begin to speak. Finn couldn’t help but stare at him as he opened the meeting with his usual garrulousness and humor. He wanted to kiss him.

When it was his turn to speak, Finn reluctantly tore his eyes away from his friend and said something vague and introductory. This meeting has been called to determine our way forward, our new goals, etc., etc. He had to fight the urge to look at Poe the whole time.

With great effort, he turned his mind to strategy and funding, and away from the image of Poe’s come all over his hands. Even then he wasn’t completely successful. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Poe touched him, tenderly and sweetly but still managing to scorch him somehow. When this was over, when Poe said it was over, how was Finn going to do without it?

The startling thought – the idea that Finn wanted more – implanted itself in Finn’s head like a sickness. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what he meant by _more_ , but something restless and unsatisfied had settled in his heart as he watched Poe speak.

***

“Check this out,” Finn said, using the Force to shut the door to his room.

“Holy shit!” Poe exclaimed. “Do something else.”

Poe had bounded in as per usual, only this time he’d been holding a bottle of lube. Finn had just sort of stared at the small bottle, but Poe had simply placed it on his nightstand nonchalantly, chattering about how he thought BB-8 might be going through puberty, because she certainly never _used_ to take such a tone with him. He seemed almost punch-drunk, the kind of cavalier he’d been when he’d taunted Kylo Ren in his creepy torture chamber. Finn, meanwhile, had been daydreaming about sucking Poe off all day and was feeling vaguely disappointed at the sight of the lube.

Finn, with Poe egging him on, managed to summon a bar of chocolate that had been sitting on his desk.

“Wow,” Poe said, taking a bite. “If Palpatine’s crusty ass ever awakens again, he doesn’t stand a _chance_.”

“He better not, or I’ll batter him to death with chocolate bars.”

Poe snorted. “That’s too kind a death for him, I think.”

They laughed for a minute, and then Poe said, “So about tonight – I had something in mind…”

“I actually wanted—” Finn interrupted, before doubting himself at Poe’s surprised face. “Sorry—it was just—I’ve been thinking about this—”

Poe, riveted, waited for him to speak, but Finn couldn’t seem to find the words. It was one thing to be doing this with Poe, and enjoying it while it happened, but maybe Poe would be upset if he admitted that it had spilled over into real life. Maybe that’s why they never spoke about it outside of their meetings. Maybe Poe, like Finn, was trying to prevent his two worlds from colliding.

“What have you been thinking about?” Poe asked, voice gravelly. His eyes were dark, and he was looking at Finn intently.

Something in his expression set Finn’s heartbeat to galloping.

“I, um,” he tried, swallowing thickly. “Sucking you off. I’ve been thinking about sucking you off.”

Poe blinked, and he took a long, shaky breath. “Okay, that’s…” he said, “You’ve been thinking about that?”

Finn nodded, and looked down. “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing this to help me out, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but—”

“Don’t—apologize,” Poe rushed to say. “I think about—you, too.”

Finn’s head whipped up to meet Poe’s eyes. “Really?” he asked breathlessly.

Poe nodded tightly.

“Oh,” Finn said, and suddenly his heart was beating loudly in his ears.

Poe’s expression opened as he looked at Finn. When he saw Finn looking back, he smiled gently.

“Come here,” he said quietly, muted emotion coloring his voice.

Finn moved closer, understanding what Poe wanted, and they began to kiss. It was sweet and exploratory, and Finn dared to smooth his hands along the planes of Poe’s chest and back. His mind kept returning to the strategy meeting, and the restless longing he’d felt then stirred once again. _More_ mutated into something concrete as his hands traced over wiry muscle. More skin. More skin.

“Can I—?” Finn stuttered out, fiddling with the buttons on Poe’s shirt.

Poe, who had taken the opportunity to mouth at Finn’s jaw, paused for a moment to give a keen, “Yeah, yeah, please,” before returning to his mouth.

Poe’s kiss had turned more demanding, and Finn dully recognized it as a reward for saying what he wanted. His fingers scrabbled uselessly at the buttons as the kiss crowded his faculties. He broke off with a frustrated huff, and Poe gave a shit-eating grin and nipped at his lower lip gently. Finn was finally able to undo the buttons of Poe’s shirt, and Poe turned almost solemn for a moment, watching Finn with a clear-eyed expression, keeping his hands at his side. When he was finally done, Finn couldn’t help but run his hands along the newly exposed skin with a very pleased sigh. Poe inhaled sharply as Finn touched him, and Finn responded by running his hands through the dark curls on Poe’s chest. Though far from the dirtiest thing they’d done, something about this felt different to Finn: intimate, and real. He shivered a little at the thought, and pressed himself up against Poe for a kiss. The shirt soon dropped to the floor, and, as it did, Poe brought his hands to Finn’s face and kissed him deeply, making Finn’s own hands stutter as they roamed over Poe’s bare shoulders and back. It all felt so luxurious, Finn thought. He couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this. Poe’s hands dropped and began work on Finn’s shirt, Finn breaking off the kiss to help at the sudden, desperate urge to feel his skin on Poe’s. He wanted to be closer, to be as close as possible. Finn’s shirt disposed of, Poe’s hands immediately began wandering, one thumb gently rubbing at one of Finn’s nipples as they began to kiss again. Finn moaned into the kiss at the sensation.

“Jesus, you’re hot,” Poe murmured, hands continuing to explore.

Finn was momentarily taken aback, because Poe had never really said anything like that before; they hadn’t really done much talking that didn’t involve direction. The thought of being attractive to Poe, of turning him on, made him feel like he was glowing.

“Lemme,” Finn said, starting to walk them towards the bed, “I want to—”

“Yeah, yeah, please,” Poe murmured. “Please.”

His cock was hard against Finn’s thigh as Finn muscled him back. Gently, Finn lay Poe down and began to work at his belt buckle. Poe, breathing heavily, ran his hands through his hair as if in wild disbelief. His pants were removed and thrown to the side, followed by his underwear, and suddenly Finn had a naked Poe Dameron before him.

“Jesus,” Finn breathed, looking down at him. He had never really taken the time to fully appreciate the scale of Poe’s attractiveness, and couldn’t help but do so now. His thick dark curls, his deep-set eyes. His body, muscular in a wiry way, tipping ever so slightly towards middle age in a way Finn found very attractive. His hands, all careful fingers and large palms. His thighs, his skin, his lips, his chest, his _cock_ – Finn felt a little like he was losing his mind. Poe even _smelled_ good, like clean sweat and musky cologne.

Emboldened in a way that, to his rational mind, would be slightly worrying, Finn kissed down Poe’s chest, over his stomach, down to his cock. Poe bucked up slightly at the way Finn grabbed him and, without ceremony, began to lick at him. The taste and scent of him made Finn’s head swim. He was distantly aware that he was nervous, and, indeed, his free hand was shaking slightly where it rested on Poe’s hip, but the almost frightening desire to get closer, to bring pleasure, had lit in his blood so that he hardly even noticed. Poe was uncut, like he himself was, so he mimicked what Poe had done with him and gently drew the foreskin back and placed him in his mouth. Finn continued the blowjob almost in a daze, taking Poe’s halting direction, basking in his sweet praise. When Poe had said, his voice raspy and soft, that he was going to come, Finn had almost been surprised. He continued bobbing his head carefully, moving his fist along with his mouth, until Poe’s hips stuttered and he came in Finn’s mouth, shaking and cursing. Finn tried and failed to swallow, letting most of it drip out of his mouth so he wouldn’t choke. Poe was panting, covering his eyes with both hands.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. Finn wiped his mouth and moved his body up so he could lay beside his friend.

“That was nice,” Finn said, tucking his chin onto Poe’s shoulder.

Poe drew back, eyes wide. “ _Nice_?” he exclaimed, still breathing heavily. “Jesus, Finn, that was— _Jesus_.”

Finn grinned.

“You okay?” Poe asked, turning over to face Finn fully.

Finn nodded, and Poe kissed him once, gently but firmly.

“That was wonderful,” he said warmly, kissing him again. His eyes were all crinkly, and Finn thought he might be in heaven.

They laid there a moment, side by side, panting heavily.

“Question for you,” Poe said, as if they were conversing about the weather. Finn raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Have you ever fingered yourself?”

Finn felt his brain grind to a halt. “Uh,” he said stupidly. Poe smiled indulgently. Recovering himself, Finn said, “Yeah, yes. I have, yes.”

“Good,” Poe said soundly, rolling off the bed and grabbing the little bottle of lube that had been placed on Finn’s bed table. “I’m going to finger you. Does that sound okay?”

If Finn hadn’t already been hard, that certainly would have done the trick. He blinked dumbly at Poe and nodded, half-dazed at the thought. Poe then removed Finn’s trousers and briefs with a workmanlike efficiency that left Finn breathless. They were both naked, now, and Finn felt Poe’s gaze on him like a open flame. He’d never given much thought to his body, seeing it as more of a practical instrument than anything else, but, now, with Poe looking down at him with a lupine grin, he felt suddenly self-conscious and shy.

“You’re gorgeous,” Poe said gently, smoothing a hand along Finn’s thigh from where he sat between his legs. He grabbed a pillow and motioned for Finn to sit up. When Finn had, he slid the pillow under Finn until his hips were tilted up.

His eyes went sort of glassy, then, and he palmed Finn’s cock lightly before grabbing the lube bottle. The snap of it opening made Finn shiver.

“There’s something I’m going to need from you,” Poe said warmly, squirting some into his hand and settling down more comfortably. He moved closer.

“Yeah?” Finn squeaked.

“I’m going to need you to talk to me,” Poe continued, his voice running over Finn like warm water. Poe was using his clean hand to push Finn’s knees up gently, exposing him, but Finn was so caught up in the timbre of Poe’s voice he couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed. He began to rub his hands together, to warm the lube up. “Tell me what you like. What you don’t like.”

Finn nodded, his gaze fixed on Poe.

“Very good,” Poe said, taking a lube-covered finger and swirling it against his hole. Finn tensed, a little shocked at how _different_ it felt having someone else touch him there. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Poe added more lube to his hands, and spread it onto Finn.

“If you need me to stop,” Poe said, slipping one slick finger into him, making him inhale sharply, “or if you need me to go slower, let me know.” He was panting slightly now, his eyes taking on a manic look at his he slid his finger all the way into Finn. He began to slowly pump his finger, and again Finn marveled at how strange it was. Poe’s fingers felt bigger, thicker than his own, reaching further.

“Ready for another?” Poe said, after a few passes.

Finn nodded again, his hands curling into the sheets on his bed.

“Oh, god,” he said helplessly as Poe pushed another finger inside him. He felt his body clench around the fingers, and whined a little.

Poe swallowed thickly, his eyes hooded. He shifted the angles of his fingers every few strokes, and one hit _just_ right, prompting Finn to give a pleasured yelp. Poe smiled rakishly at Finn and rubbed a bit at his prostate before backing off and scissoring his fingers inside him.

Poe added a third finger, and Finn was breathing heavily now, feeling wet and fucked-open. His cock was leaking profusely, an angry color where it bobbed gently above his stomach. Poe was very clearly watching his fingers as they disappeared into Finn, and the rapturous concentration in his eyes made Finn go all shivery.

“Fuck,” Finn said softly, his hips beginning to buck of their own accord. “Fuck, that’s so—that feels so good—so much better than when I—”

Poe bit as his own lip then, leaving it looking red and swollen, and Finn wanted him closer but didn’t know how to ask.

“You look so good, Finn,” Poe breathed. “Feel so good.”

“Yeah?” Finn asked breathlessly, heat rising all over his body. He felt coiled tight and too open at the same time, pushing helplessly against Poe’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Poe confirmed, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were in pain. He changed the angle of his fingers again, so that he was hitting Finn’s prostate with each thrust. Finn moaned loudly, then, pleasure sparking a riot all over his body. “Touch yourself,” Poe demanded, and Finn scrambled to obey, making Poe scrape out a rough “ _Yes_.”

Finn felt his arousal ratcheting up and up with each stroke of his hand, each thrust of Poe’s fingers, and a sort of tight, hot pressure gathered low in his stomach.

“Yes, oh, god, Poe, _yes_ ,” he heard himself saying distantly.

Poe’s nails then scraped down his thigh, and something about that set him off, his arse clenching around Poe’s fingers like a vise, come shooting all over his stomach and hands. His hips bucked sloppily into this fist, at odds with the way he was still trying to push into Poe’s hands.

“Hah, hah,” he said, quickly feeling overstimulated.

Poe withdrew his hand gently, rubbing slightly at Finn’s entrance as if admiring his handiwork. Finn, coming down from the high, panted happily.

“Come here,” he said breathlessly.

Poe obeyed almost mechanically, maneuvering his body so he was on top of Finn and kissing him gently. They’d barely kissed when he sat up and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

Poe grinned. “Yeah. Just gonna wash up.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came back a few moments later with a wet cloth that he handed to Finn. Finn thanked him and cleaned himself up, and by the time he was done, Poe was putting his clothes back on.

Just friends again, Finn thought to himself. As if it never happened. Ever since their first talk over chess, they never spoke about it outside the encounters themselves. He supposed Poe was trying to keep the two things separate: friendship on one hand, sex on the other. But still, some mention of it would be nice, instead of treating it like a shameful secret. Maybe he was overthinking it. He was probably overthinking it.

Poe gave him a little half-smile, and wished him goodnight. Finn tried to say out something in return, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) ;) :) :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's gonna hurt kiddos
> 
> EDIT: Upon further reflection, I have come to the realization that this chapter might be a little triggering for some people. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner & I hope no one was caught off guard. Within this chapter, there is what I would call a negative sexual encounter. No one has any bad intentions; Poe neglects to communicate how he is feeling and has sex when he really shouldn’t. It is a bit emotionally irresponsible of him. My apologies again.

Finn woke up the next morning and was, stupidly, disappointed at how empty his bed felt without Poe in it. Waking up next to his best friend had been nice, but it had only happened _once_ , and Finn couldn’t help but feel that Poe regretted it. While they had been having sex, he was so attentive, so caring, but the minute they had been done, it was like something in him frosted over. He had left so quickly last night, hardly even bothering for the come to dry on Finn’s stomach before pulling his pants back on. Finn’s thoughts made him scowl a little to himself, because he was being ridiculous, and more than unfair. What did he _want_ exactly? They were friends, and Poe was having sex with him as a favor. To expect Poe to also introduce him to the intricacies of a romantic relationship was selfish. Poe had already gone above and beyond the call of friendship. 

He rolled out of bed and checked his communicator. 

_ Jannah: Be back tomorrow. _

He dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed vigorously at his eyes. How was he going to face her? How could he say to her, say to those kids, _My feelings are more important than saving innocent lives_. Once again it circled back to his own selfishness. But the thought of plunging himself back into the world of Troopers made his throat close up a little. 

Willing his thoughts away, at least until he could face them on a full stomach, he went through the motions of his morning routine. Showered and dressed, he headed to the cafeteria. 

Poe was already there, finishing up his food. Finn was upset for a moment, wondering why Poe hadn’t waited for him like he usually did, until he saw his face. He looked _awful_. His skin looked grey and ashen, and there were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. He looked a little manic, actually, doubtless wired on too much coffee, and Finn’s tray clattered down on the table as he quickly ducked down to give his friend a closer look. 

“Are you okay? You look like shit,” he said.

Poe smiled wryly a moment. “Couldn’t fucking sleep,” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye. His other hand was clutched at his coffee as if it were the controls on a slowly-crashing A-wing. 

“What’s going on?” Finn asked feelingly. He sat, beginning to poke at his food.

Poe blinked helplessly a few times. “Dunno. Anxious, I guess.”

Finn frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know, just...” he shifted uncomfortably. “Being a general. Leia not being here to tell me that everything is going to be okay.”

Finn nodded knowingly. “No bearings.” 

Poe’s eye met Finn’s in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. It’s so strange – being given the controls but having no goddamn idea what to do with them.”

Simply relieved that Poe’s sleeplessness wasn’t about _them_ , Finn tucked into his meal thoughtfully. He searched for words that would comfort his friend, wanting to reciprocate, to try and pay back all that Poe was doing for him. 

“I can’t give all that much guidance, but…I hope you know that you’re not alone. I’m no Leia,” Finn said, immediately regretting the wording that recalled their harsh words during Exegol, “but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. We’ll navigate all of this. Together.” 

Poe smiled softly at him, like he’d actually said something useful. If only. 

“Why didn’t you get me last night?” Finn asked conversationally. “We could have talked about it.” 

Poe tilted his head. “I didn’t know—I didn’t want to bother you.” His eyes were large, and something about the way he spoke was particularly miserable. 

Finn snorted, eager to state in no uncertain terms that Poe could, and should, always come to him. “You’re an idiot. You’d never bother me.” There, he’d said it. He wasn’t altogether sure what he was saying, but he knew that he meant it.

Poe was looking at him with an almost unbearably sincere gaze. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Finn.” 

His heart stuck in his throat, Finn nodded.

Rey chose that moment to join them, sitting down at the table with a fully-loaded tray and a grin.  
“Good morning,” she said merrily, immediately tucking in to her food. Rey treated every calorie like a blessing from heaven, and it was both endearing and depressing to watch. 

“You eat like a wild animal,” Poe said, sounding both awed and disgusted. 

She simply grinned and shoved another forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Well, I’ve got things to do,” Poe said, getting up from the table. He turned to Finn and grinned widely. “You ready for tonight, bud?”

“Tonight?” Finn asked, unsure what he meant. He went to take a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah. You’re gonna fuck me tonight.”

Finn’s eyes widened, and he lost his grip on the plastic coffee cup he’d been holding. It sloshed all over the table, but he was too busy staring at Poe with his jaw on the ground to notice. Rey snorted into her coffee.

Poe winked. 

“See you later, champ,” he said, grinning as he turned on his heel and walked away. 

Rey was laughing hysterically, clutching at her sides. “Oh my god, your _face.”_

Finn began to mop fruitlessly at the spilled coffee with his napkin, still unsure what had just happened.

***

Poe wiped his hands—clammy with sweat—on his pants when he got into Leia’s office. He had lied. Poe had absolutely, one-hundred-percent lied through his _teeth_. He’d hated doing it, but Finn could never—Poe had settled this with himself long ago—could never know how he felt. And so Finn could never know that, though Poe _did_ sometimes lay awake at night considering all the ways he might fail as Leia’s successor, it had not been anxiety that had kept Poe from sleep last night. It had been heartsickness, one so profound it seemed to swallow him whole.

He had lied, and Finn had responded, as usual, with nothing but kindness and self-sacrificing nobility. _Why didn’t you get me last night? You’d never bother me._ Did Finn realize what he was saying? If he were able to trace the diseased tracks of Poe’s mind, he would never have said such a thing. _Come see me_ , he was saying. _Come see me in the still of the night._ Poe scowled at himself as he walked away from the cafeteria. What was wrong with him? Finn was being a good friend. _Unlike you_ , Poe thought snidely to himself, _Finn actually prioritizes friendship over getting his dick wet._ Poe hated himself. He hated the false bravado he found himself reverting to, that he always reverted to when his stunted heart couldn’t process things. _See you later, champ? Really?_ Even Poe was stunned at his own tomfoolery.

It had started when he’d woken up in Finn’s bed. Since then, his heart had been undergoing some sort of hideously protracted implosion. No, maybe it had started earlier. The handjob had been the catalyst, probably. God, of all the things that Poe had feared might kill him, a handjob had never fucking crossed his mind. _But wait_ , Poe thought, laughing bitterly to himself as he walked down the hallway to Leia’s old office, _you’re forgetting the blowjob. You know, the one where you almost started crying?_ The way Finn had kissed him, his body curled over Poe’s, would be enough so send even the sanest man a little crazy. 

And then, of course, he’d _fallen asleep_ , and God hadn’t even been kind enough to let Poe die before he woke up. So he’d stirred to life in Finn’s bed, his body all warm and loose under Finn’s sheets, his nose filled with Finn’s scent. Another cruel scene from a domestic life he’d never really get to experience. He’d decided that moment that he just needed to get through this, as quickly and as painlessly as possible. It was all becoming too much. 

He wasn’t sure his heart could continue to take these beatings every night, especially because all Poe seemed to be doing was falling more deeply in love with his friend. He clearly couldn’t be trusted to keep things platonic—as platonic as having your mouth on someone else’s body could be, at least—even though he’d really tried. For fuck’s sake, he’d had the man he loved under him and had barely uttered a word of his usually irrepressible dirty talk. He hadn’t touched Finn outside of the specific sex acts they’d discussed. He had viciously quashed his ever-increasing desire for intimacy outside of the bedroom. Far from satisfying his longing, this small taste of what it would be like to really _be_ with Finn had only served to awaken a black hole of hunger inside Poe. He should have known. He _had_ known, but he had chosen to ignore it. 

And Finn seemed to have a talent for blowing by every self-imposed restriction Poe had tried to half-heartedly erect. Poe closed his eyes against the memory of Finn admitting that he’d been thinking about sucking his cock all day. How was he supposed to cope with that? What was he supposed to _do_ with that? He was only human. He had gone into that night fully prepared to keep Finn at the distance, and then he says _that_?

It wasn’t just sexual, though. It was the way Finn had unbuttoned his shirt with careful hands, leaving Poe to feel like someone had flayed him open. It was how Finn still seemed so _shy_ sometimes, and in how he was slowly gaining confidence. The tenderness of his touch. The bare-faced honesty of him. The way he had said, so sweetly, _You’re so good_. Poe felt himself slowly succumbing to the relentless undertow of loving Finn. He was helpless against it. And yet, even as Poe sunk deeper and deeper in love with Finn, he felt the situation was creating cracks in their friendship. This wasn’t new, really; Poe’s inconvenient _feelings_ had been causing friction since before Exegol. But something about this arrangement, during which Poe’s heart already felt rubbed raw, the added tension—the Jannah situation, his _own_ lies—was stretching Poe so think he thought he might snap. Was he not worthy of hearing Finn’s troubles? Had he not proven himself a devoted friend? The thought of being left in the dark pinched at him even now. _Come to me_ , Poe wanted to say, _Come to me in the still of the night. I can take it._

But it was fine. It was going to be fine. It was almost done. He could bluster his way through this. He’d pare things back down: no extraneous touching, no tender undressing, no more. Finn would fuck Poe, Poe would fuck Finn, and it would be done and they would never, ever speak of it again and things would go back to normal. Two nights more. 

***

Poe was taking off his shirt and refusing to look at Finn. His mind was too busy with the logistics. In his experience, good anal sex required a lot of kissing and preparation and communication, more than any other type of sex did, and this situation made all three of those things too emotionally charged—or, rather, toocharged with _negative_ emotion. He wasn’t nervous. It was just a bit—awkward. Finn was undressing, too, seemingly too in his own head to question Poe’s uncharacteristic reticence.

He felt miserable and snappish, trying to put on a brave face but worried it was coming off more as a grimace. He just had to get through this.

They both sat on the bed.

“I’m a little nervous,” Finn said, rubbing his hands over his thighs, still clad in boxers. 

“Don’t be, man,” Poe said, easier than he felt, “Your body will instinctually know what to do, and I’ll guide you through the rest.” 

Poe shoved off his boxers, muscling his way past the awkward embarrassment of doing this without any kissing or touching with sheer willpower. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the side table.

“I figured I would—prep myself,” Poe said stiltedly. He found fingering to be one of the more intimate sexual acts and the way he had spoken to Finn as he’d fingered him was proof. He had lost himself in it, forgotten he was supposed to be tucking his feelings away where they couldn’t ruin anything. He couldn’t help but compare the two occasions, this one feeling so clinical when seen in the light of the other. Poe resolved that it didn’t matter, so long as it got done. He had to protect himself. 

“Oh,” Finn said, and Poe could hear the disappointment in his voice. He had already started shifting into position and stopped in his tracks. 

“Um,” Poe said, “Unless – did you want…?” 

_ Fuck. Fuck.  _ He’d fallen at the first obstacle. So much for his promise to himself. It was just—the thought of Finn wanting that, wanting to open him up—it was too wonderful an idea to resist. 

“Yeah, I—could I?” Finn replied, hesitant and gorgeous and making something in Poe’s stomach flip hideously. 

Poe nodded silently, feeling like he was being led to the gallows. He began to maneuver himself into a kneeling position, sure that he could not handle this face-to-face and desperate to avoid that possibility. Panic rose in his chest. Forget about face-to-face, he couldn’t do this at _all_. And yet his body rearranged itself so he was on his knees.

“Better if you can see what you’re doing,” he croaked, before lowering his head to the bed, his heart thumping in his chest. Embarrassment made his posture go rigid. Finn would be able to see everything. _Shameless. Absolute shameless slut. Loose._ The words swirled through his head almost to the point of nausea. Poe tried to silence his mind, to simply check out for the experience, but Finn let out a long, shuddering breath and Poe’s attention was suddenly riveted.

A hand travelled up Poe’s thigh to his arse, palming at it lightly.

“Poe, I can’t…I can’t believe…” Finn said, his voice soft and—awed? He placed another hand, big and warm and gentle, on Poe’s arse, and Poe couldn’t help the little wounded sound he made at the sensation. Poe, distantly, felt he ought to be alarmed at how quickly, and how thoroughly, this had spiraled out of control.

The hands left. Poe shut his eyes tightly against the rising tide of emotion. The snick of the lube bottle opening in the silence of the room made him shiver. A slick thumb swirled over his hole a moment later, and Poe inhaled sharply. It felt blunt and huge and warm. He suddenly wanted it inside of him, wanted it so viciously that it shocked him. Finn was rubbing his hands together, now, warming up the lube. It still felt a bit cool when it was pressed onto his hole, though, and he startled a little.

“Sorry,” Finn breathed, pressing a warm hand onto his back. Poe’s eyes fluttered shut. He could feel the heat of Finn behind him. A wet finger ran around his rim. “Is it okay…?”

Poe could hear how nervous Finn was and tried to throw off the thick blanket of arousal in order to be of more use. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, I can take a finger easy,” he said breathlessly. Finn obeyed, and one of his long, thick fingers slid into him slowly, punching the breath out of Poe. Poe grunted, and regretted how cavalierly he had directed his friend. 

Finn, panicking: “What’s wrong? Is this okay?”

He began to withdraw his finger, but Poe reached behind to grab at his wrist.

“No,” he said thickly. “No, it’s good. Don’t move.”

Finn listened, but Poe could sense his uneasiness. “Maybe face-to-face would be better, so I could see your expression,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Poe laughed a bit, letting go of Finn’s wrist, genuinely warmed at how gentle and considerate his friend was. Previous partners of his had rushed through even minimal prep, and here Finn was, worried about one finger. What had he expected, really? This was Finn down to the ground. Poe adored him. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Poe said confidently. The irony of the statement was not lost on him. 

“If you say so…” Finn said. 

Poe could feel himself once more being pulled in by Finn’s undertow. He was helpless against his charms. “Gimme another, big boy,” Poe said, grinning. 

Finn snorted. “Do not _ever_ call me that again,” he said, laughing. Poe began to laugh too, but it devolved into a pleased moan as Finn began to move his finger. 

A second finger quickly followed, and Poe’s cock started to become very interested in the proceedings. His nerves were buzzing softly. He couldn’t believe he had been worried about this not feeling good.

“Okay?” Finn murmured.

“Yeah,” Poe answered weakly. Finn was kneading at his arse with free hand. Poe was starting to feel hot and flushed. “Another, please.” 

Finn didn’t follow his instructions, instead scissoring his fingers. Poe gasped and dropped his head heavily, pleasure tingling up his spine.

“Is that,” he asked, breathless, “what you do to yourself?”

What was he _doing_? He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. 

“Yeah,” Finn grunted in reply. Poe could feel his laser focus and was horribly reminded of Finn’s formidable speed and ability in picking up new skills. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had miscalculated somehow as Finn slide a third finger inside him. 

“Oh,” Poe said, as if it were punched out of him. “ _Yes_.”

It was too late. He couldn’t stop this now. He didn’t want to stop this now. His hips began to push back against Finn’s fingers. He felt loose and wet, split open. Heat creeped along his body like a fever. He couldn’t stop the soft little moans escaping him. 

“That good?” Finn asked.

“Yeah, yeah, feels good, feels really good, god, fuck, your _hands_ ,” Poe panted. His mind was entering that dreamy place it went whenever he got fucked, and his thighs were beginning to shake minutely. He was going to come soon if this continued, and he didn’t want to yet.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said. “I’m ready, fuck me.” 

Finn removed his fingers, making Poe whimper a bit. Poe felt coiled up tight, one spark away from dissolving into flame, as he waited for what Finn would do next. He could feel Finn’s hesitation behind him, and this reminded him that Finn was likely waiting for some sort of instruction from his sex tutor. Jesus Christ. 

“More lube,” Poe said. “On you and me. Go slow. Don’t worry so much.” 

Finn followed his instructions, and the wet sound of him smoothing lube over his cock hit Poe like a ton of bricks. He squeezed his eyes shut against the low sweep of arousal in his stomach. 

Suddenly, Finn’s hands were on Poe’s hips, and his cock was nudging up against Poe’s stretched hole. Finn was shaking behind him. 

“Fuck,” Poe said, shivering. 

It felt too big going in, too much, and Poe had taken bigger before, but something about this felt different. The enormity was not so much a physical one, but an emotional one, something too big to talk about, too big to even formulate the words to express. That old heartsickness clamped around Poe’s chest like a vice and suddenly Poe wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. He wanted Finn to get away from him. Finn didn’t want him. _Finn didn’t want him_. So why was Poe letting this happen? He shouldn’t have let this happen. 

Finn fucked in further. The bottom of Poe’s stomach dropped out at the slow stretch of Finn’s cock carving out a space inside him. His throat snapped shut and his hands scrabbled fruitlessly against the sheets. He felt a kind of animal desire to get away from Finn, but knew that he couldn’t express it if he didn’t want to scar Finn for life. Oh god, what had he done? He had ruined everything. 

“Hah,” he said, a pained grunt. Finn felt huge inside him, completely seated now, and Poe tried to breathe through it. He wanted to get away. How could he get away? Finn was moaning, coiled tense behind Poe, clearly trying to go slowly and having hard time doing so. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he ground out. “I can’t—god, that’s so good—”

His words made Poe momentarily breathless. He pulled out slowly, slowly, slowly, and thrust in again, making Poe make a noise like he’d been punched. Poe, for his part, couldn’t tell if it felt really good or if he were in the early stages of a panic attack. He was breathing hard. The cruel words from earlier— _shameless slut, dirty whore, you love it, you slut_ —were still running through his mind, horrible reminders of other nights with other men who hadn’t cared about him the way Finn did.

But Finn still didn’t care about Poe the way Poe cared for him. 

Tears rose in Poe’s eyes. _There are different types of devotion_. He wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Good for a fuck, a nice warm body, a nice tight arse—but for anything more—

His body stiffened at his thoughts. Again, a panicked desire to get away from Finn filled him. He clenched tightly, and it _hurt._ Finn must have noticed his rigid frame and stopped completely, panting.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you—did I—?” 

Poe could hear a note of rising panic in his friend’s voice and tried to re-center himself. “No, no—” he said, even as Finn pulled out completely.

“Please, let me—please let me see you,” Finn begged. “I need to see your face.” 

“I’m fine, Finn, really,” Poe tried. 

He knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

“Please, I know what I’m doing now, I can make it good, I just want to know you’re okay,” Finn insisted.

_ I can make it good _ ?! It flipped a switch in Poe’s brain, grounding him where he had been floating in panic and pain. Finn had thought he was worried about getting off. Poe immediately flipped over to face Finn, to reassure him. 

“Finn, I don’t care—” He sighed. He didn’t know how to express how little he gave a fuck about Finn ‘making it good.’ “I want you to enjoy yourself. That’s it.”

“How can I enjoy myself when you’re not—?”

“I _was—_ okay, okay, you’re right, you’re right,” Poe said, hands up in surrender. 

Whose needs were more important here? Poe, who was over-reacting to a fact that he was taking far too long to come to terms with, or Finn, who had crawled through the mire of his traumatic childhood to get here? It was never even a question. He could do this. For Finn, he could do this.

“We’ll do it like this,” Poe said, trying to gauge where Finn was emotionally and having a hard time. Finn looked spooked, his broad shoulders crumpled. He was breathing heavily, his eyes roving Poe’s body as though checking for injury. 

“Finn, look at me,” Poe demanded. His friend did. “I’m okay. Everything is okay. You were doing great.”

Poe shuffled closer to Finn, and kissed him soundly. 

“Don’t leave me like this,” Poe said tenderly. “Please? I want this. Please.”

Finn nodded, looking a little less miserable. He kissed Poe, as if to apologize, soft and hesitant. 

_ There are different types of devotion _ . 

They continued to kiss, gentle and sweet, and Poe drew Finn back until he was on top of him. It didn’t take long for heat to enter Finn’s kisses again.

“You want me?” Finn asked, as if amazed at the prospect, his hand tangled in Poe’s hair. 

“Yes. Yes, Finn, I want you” Poe said, quietly, and Poe felt like he had just revealed what he had sworn never to reveal. He gazed up at Finn with eyes that were probably saying far too much.

Finn kissed him deeper, then, licking into his mouth, cock grinding up against Poe’s own. Poe felt flushed and warm and tousled, his heart cracked open like an egg.

He grabbed a pillow and put it under his hips. 

“C’mon. Stop teasing me,” he said, all sensual bravado. He sort of wanted to cry.

Carefully, Finn lined his still-slick cock up at Poe’s entrance. He pushed into Poe, his eyes shifting wordlessly, watchfully, from where they were joined to Poe’s face, and back. Poe, so concerned with trying to hide his own face from Finn, hadn’t thought of how it would be to see Finn’s face go slack with pleasure, or focused with determination. A moan bubbled from Poe’s throat. Finn was gorgeous, miles of dark skin, kind almond-shaped eyes, arms tense as he held himself up over Poe.

Poe closed his eyes. He had to keep a handle on things this time. He still felt the shadow of the cramped, awful way he’d felt just a few moments ago, like his body was being invaded by some malicious presence, like he was a wolf caught in a trap.

Finn was fucking into Poe slowly, kissing gently at his neck, stopping periodically to check Poe’s face. His breathing was labored, his eyes closed. Poe felt hideously fond of him and scrubbed his hands over Finn’s back. It was good, if a bit mechanical, and he knew he would come eventually.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Finn was murmuring, speeding up gradually. He seemed to be growing slowly more unhinged as they went. “God, you feel so good, I don’t even know—I can’t believe you’re—”

The kisses quickly turned a bit frenzied, and Finn ran his free hand all over Poe’s body, feverish and strong. 

“Let me give you what you need,” Finn said, and Poe suddenly understood that he was asking him, begging him, to show him what to do, to show him how to please him. Shocked, he could hardly respond. Finn’s mouth returned to Poe’s and Finn kissed him, hard and almost desperate. “Please,” he said.

“Harder,” Poe said, praying that a faster pace would make this end sooner. The raw tenderness in Finn’s voice had made something shift inside him, like a dam had broken and the water was slowly seeping through his body. Finn obeyed, and fucked into him harder, clutching onto him tighter for leverage. Something shifted, then, and it felt _good_ , and Poe was suddenly working to keep himself in check, trying not to think about how deep Finn’s cock was in this new position, how it felt a bit like Finn was fucking him wide open, until he had nowhere to hide. Finn’s free hand was now tangled in Poe’s hair and he was sucking at Poe’s pulse point, and Poe felt like his spine might be melting. 

“Yeah, that’s good, that’s good, fuck me like that, just like that,” he was saying. Finn felt _big_ , forcing Poe’s arse open, all slick and wet and loose. His hands came up against the solid wall of Finn’s chest. Poe felt fever-hot and dizzy, overwhelmed and lost.

Finn was so deep inside him, around him, on top of him. Poe wrapped his legs around him blindly, desperate to cling onto the only thing that felt solid. He couldn’t stop the noises he was making. He felt out of control. 

“God, fuck, that’s it, I want to make you feel good,” Finn said, and returned to his neck.

“I do, I do,” Poe kept repeating, and he was horrified at the burn of tears in his eyes. It was so good, and that’s what made it so awful. It felt like Finn was not just physically inside him, but emotionally, mentally, baring Poe’s soul with each thrust. How was Poe ever supposed to move on from this? How was Poe ever supposed to do without this? Again, he had the sinking feeling that he’d miscalculated. Now that he’d had a taste of this, of what it would be like—

He let out a little sob, and it passed easily as one of pleasure. Finn shifted, then, and the change in angle resulted in him hitting Poe’s prostate. Poe moaned loudly. Tears were falling onto his cheeks now, and he buried his face in Finn’s neck. He’d never have this again. After this, it would be over. They would go back to the way things were and Poe would have to shove his feelings back into their box, and pretend like he was happy for Finn when he found someone. Finn would never love him.

“Please,” he sobbed. “Please, Finn, please—”

_ Please, love me. Please, stay with me. Please. _

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” Finn soothed, taking Poe’s cock in hand and pumping it firmly. 

Finn was so close to him, all around him, and it felt like he was saying something that Poe knew he was not. Tears were still running down Poe’s cheeks—he couldn’t seem to stop them—and he could feel his orgasm coming like a freight train. Finn’s kiss was burning him. His cock pistoned into Poe like Poe was _his,_ like he was claiming him for his own, but Poe knew he would be tossed aside after all this was done.

“Please,” he gasped, before clamping his mouth shut. He couldn’t afford to say anything stupid. The heat rose to catastrophic levels, and suddenly his orgasm slammed into him—he clawed at Finn’s body, shuddering, hips giving half-stunted thrusts, silently shouting into Finn’s neck. It felt like minutes, Finn fucking him slowly through it, his arse clamping tight around his cock. As he was coming down, he felt Finn tense up, his thrusts going sloppy and wild. Finn bit as his neck and clutched at him like he was a drowning man and Poe a lifesaver. When it was done, arse fluttering weakly around Finn’s soft cock, he pressed his face into Finn’s neck, trying to stop the tears and failing. He let out a hiccupping sob, loud in the post-coital silence of the room, and Finn froze at the sound. 

He pulled back, eyes wide with _terror_ , and brought his hand to Poe’s face, as if to feel for himself that the tears there were real. Poe’s stomach dropped at the expression of horror on Finn’s face. 

“No, _no,_ what—?” 

Poe opened his mouth to reassure him, but Finn reared back, pulling out of Poe, practically launching himself across the bed. Bereft, eyes wide, tears dripping from his cheeks, Poe had no idea what to do. 

God, how could he have fucked this up so badly? What was wrong with him? And yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak, because he knew he couldn’t without sobbing. His hands were shaking, and he didn’t know what to do with them.

“What happened, you’re crying, what—?” Finn was babbling.

“Finn—” Poe tried, his voice wobbly.

Finn got closer again, shoving Poe’s legs up to inspect his entrance.

“You’re hurt, what—what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Finn said fiercely, retreating again, “Don’t give me that. I—I may not be very experienced, but I know people aren’t supposed to _cry_.” 

Poe noticed, with horror, that tears were now starting to form in Finn’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” Poe said, desperate, trying to get closer to soothe Finn. Finn, however, kept on moving away like he was diseased. 

“Stop, you don’t have to make me feel better after what—whatever I did,” Finn said shortly, miserably.

“I was just tired, and overwhelmed. It was good—a good cry,” Poe tried, cringing at how unconvincing he sounded.

“ _A good cry?_ ” Finn exclaimed. “I _heard you_.” He put his head in his hands. “Oh god. Oh god.” 

“It wasn’t anything you did,” Poe said imploringly. He was still sitting on the bed, shaking, cum and lube leaking out of his arse. It was his own fucking fault. 

Finn sat next to him, then, eyes wild with concern. “What, then?” he asked gently. 

Poe knew he wouldn’t be able to lie his way out of this. He wanted to ask Finn to stop looking at him, just a moment, so he could compose himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this right now. 

“Please, I—” he tried, looking down at his hands. Tears rose again and he blinked them away furiously. “I’m just stressed—I didn’t sleep—please just—just leave it, Finn.”

“Leave it?” Finn asked incredulously. “ _Leave_ it? Are you kidding me?”

Poe got up, blindly. 

“I need to go,” he said, voice wavering on a near-sob. “I need to go.”

He found his pants and pulled them on, and then grabbed the rest of his clothes. Finn was looking on, face like he’d just been slapped, unable, apparently, to find the words. 

“Poe,” he tried, sounding lost and confused.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Poe said miserably. He managed not to cry until he slipped out the door and began to walk back to his quarters.

He kept his eyes trained on the floor, stifling sobs. He was so _stupid_. The look of horror in Finn’s eyes was burned into his brain. Poe was so terrifically awful at relationships that he’d manage to ruin the best, most caring, most meaningful one he’d ever had. Not to mention—not to mention the fact that he had confirmed every fear Finn had had about sexuality and relationships. He had been so worried about getting through these last few nights that he’d forgotten the promise he’d made to Finn to take care of everything. Once again, he had selfishly prioritized his own feelings over Finn’s. How was he ever going to fix this? How could he ever look Finn in the eyes again? Finn probably wanted nothing more to do with him—too dysfunctional and damaged and difficult to be worthwhile. He could have anyone. Anyone would be happy to have him. Finn would realize that he had plenty of better options, and go elsewhere for his needs. 

When he got to his quarters, Poe curled up in his  bed and cried into his pillow, arse wet and aching, lips still sore from Finn’s kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I am so mean lol
> 
> In your own relationships, please remember that communication during sex is vital!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you were disappointed in the lack of Finn in the past few chapters, so I hope this one will make up for that a bit. Plus Jannah, too!
> 
> TW: There is some slightly-drunken sex in this chapter. Both parties are a bit inebriated. Slightly dubious consent. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Finn stared up at his ceiling, eyes aching from crying. His alarm would ring soon. He didn’t want to face the day. He didn’t think he could stand the sight of himself in the mirror, after what he’d done. Poe was his friend, his best friend, who was helping him, and he had made him cry during _sex._ And worse still, he had no idea what he’d done. He’d blundered his way into hurting his friend and he was so unaware, so inconsiderate, that he couldn’t even see where he’d gone wrong. How stupid he’d been, thinking these past few days that he’d overcome his problems, that he was capable of having a normal relationship. He felt sick thinking about the awful sobbing noise Poe had made—like his heart was breaking. 

And Poe, so sweet and so kind, had been suffering through whatever it was quietly, and had refused to even tell Finn what had happened, doubtless to spare Finn’s feelings. All so Finn, the selfish piece of shit that he was, could know what it was like to have sex. What a wonderful reward Finn had given Poe for being such a selfless friend. Finn had been thrusting away, totally oblivious to the fact that his partner was hurt. The thought made him want to throw up. He had done everything he’d been afraid of having done to him. He’d become a piece of First Order propaganda against the evils of homosexual sex.

Maybe those educational videos had penetrated him deeper than he’d thought. Like a bruised apple you cut open to reveal a network of rotted brown wormholes. If he’d managed to push away even Poe, the kindest, most patient man he knew, there must be something deeply wrong with him. His initial instincts about sex and relationships had been right: he was too messed up to ever be trusted with them. He was like a wounded animal that couldn’t help lashing out at everyone around it. All wrong inside. Best to just put such an animal down.

A knock at his door startled him.

“Finn, it’s me!”

Finn’s stomach sank. Jannah. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He’d completely forgotten about the rescue mission. He closed his eyes against another wave of tears. “Come in,” he managed in a wet voice. He may as well get it over with. It wouldn’t get any easier if he waited.

Jannah entered, all energy. She was angry.

“Why the _fuck_ haven’t you been answering me?” she demanded, planting her feet in front of his bed and putting her hands on her hips.

“Um,” he croaked, sitting up. Where to even begin? His eyes felt swollen as he took her in, still dressed in her flight gear. All he wanted was to stay in bed. Trying to get his mind around rescuing kidnapped children, possible future Troopers, seemed possible. Like a deep wound, he couldn’t even probe it gently without wincing in pain and withdrawing. Better to leave it.

“What the fuck happened to you?” she asked, tone softening slightly. She sat down in Finn’s desk chair. “You look awful.”

Unable to verbally reply, he simply shook his head, pressing his lips together so he wouldn’t burst into tears again.

“You’re not coming, are you?” she asked, voice like lead.

Finn buried his head in his hands in reply.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Finn?” she said. “Don’t you care about these kids?”

His head whipped up. “Of _course_ I do—of course I do—”

“Then what the fuck? What excuse could you have, then?”

“You don’t understand,” Finn said miserably. He felt like his head was filled with thick slime. He couldn’t seem to explain himself to Jannah, his mind too caught up in misery and self-loathing. She was right. He _was_ horrible.

“ _I_ don’t understand? Oh, I think I understand perfectly. You have your nice little Resistance friends and your nice little Resistance boytoy and suddenly you forget where you came from. What they _did_ to us,” she said venomously.

“Poe’s just my friend,” he objected numbly. If they were more, he’d have the right to ask, to demand an answer. Poe wouldn’t be able to hide things from him.

Jannah rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a _fuck_. I can’t believe how selfish you are.”

“Jannah, please—I just—I _can’t_. I can’t face it,” he said quietly, tears running down his face now. “I can’t face it. I just want to put it behind me, _please_.”

How could he explain this? He searched for the words but came up blank. Jannah, who was so brave and strong, would never understand. She seemed to, effortlessly, tackle and overcome every hurdle that had been placed in front of them by the First Order. He felt so weak and cowardly in comparison.

“I know,” Jannah said, her voice softer now. She knelt down next to where he sat on his bed and touched his shoulder gently. “I know you do. I do too. But those _kids_ , Finn. They need us.”

He let out a little broken sob and covered his face with his hands again. She was right, of course she was right, but that didn’t change the fact that the idea of seeing those kids, looking in their eyes and _knowing_ , made Finn want to run away to a different galaxy, or hide away at the bottom of the ocean.

Sometimes Finn liked to think of himself as a sinking ship. The rising water was something that could be bailed out, then, a catastrophe delayed indefinitely. If he could just continually empty himself out, it didn’t matter that there was a great gaping hole somewhere below the waterline. And so he did. What more could he do? Dive below the surface? Impossible. A sure way to drown. It was too dark, too dangerous, too painful. Surely he’d die of a thousand tiny splinters, tracing along the jagged wood looking for the leak, before he’d fix anything. Perhaps he’d never sail this way, but he’d never sink, either. But he couldn’t tell Jannah any of that.

“Can you consign those kids to the same hell we escaped?” Jannah asked, a hard edge in her voice again.

Finn didn’t answer, feeling like the world was crumbling around him.

“Fine,” she snapped, after a moment. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

She charged out of his room and slammed the door shut.

Finn watched her go. He felt sort of like an experiment gone terribly wrong, like he’d been released into the real world to see if others would notice that he was lab-made. It was safe to say that they had. He was a failure. For the first time, he thought that perhaps his escape had been a mistake.

***

Poe was sipping his coffee and staring into space when Jannah found him.

“Poe!” she exclaimed, dropping into the seat next to him, her combat boots thumping onto the floor.

“Jannah!” Poe said, terrified, hot coffee nearly sloshing onto his lap.

He’d hardly slept, spending the whole night vacillating between berating himself and trying to think of an excuse he could make to Finn that wouldn’t sound like total bullshit. If he had just been able to control his emotions for ten fucking minutes, he could have saved Finn so much heartache. He could only imagine how his friend was feeling right now. How could he ever fix this?

Jannah was looking at him queerly. He tried a smile, even though his arse was throbbing and his head felt like it was about to explode.

“Jesus, stop smiling like that, it’s creepy,” Jannah said.

He frowned and rubbed at the dark stubble on his jaw. “Like what?”

“Like someone’s holding a gun to your head,” she said flatly. “You look like shit. Worse than Exegol, and that’s saying something.”

“Been getting that a lot lately,” Poe replied mildly, sipping his coffee.

“Whatever,” Jannah said impatiently. “Are you going to help me, or what?”

“Help you?” he frowned. “With what?”

Jannah’s brow furrowed. “Finn didn’t tell you?”

The mention of Finn’s name brought Poe up short, and he set his mug down on the table so he could properly focus on Jannah. “Tell me what?” he asked, unable to quite keep the edge out of his voice.

Was this the mysterious trouble with Jannah that Finn had been hiding from him? Poe shifted his position, ignoring the twinge in his arse, and looked at her with open concern.

“The First Order—whatever remains of it—is still recruiting kids. We have information about a transport. We need men, and firepower,” Jannah explained.

Poe blinked. He was taken aback on a few different levels. The sheer weight of the news—that the First Order had enough capacity and numbers to be kidnapping and impressing soldiers—was what hit him first, and hardest. He’d thought they’d dismantled them thoroughly enough that enforced recruitment would cease to be an option for them.

“Jesus,” he breathed, hand coming to his mouth.

“I can’t believe Finn didn’t even tell you. He was just going to ignore me,” Jannah said, annoyed.

“Finn didn’t—?” Poe cut himself off, frowning. “He’s not—helping you?”

“No,” she said, looking pensive now. “Said he couldn’t face it. I was a bit harsh on him, I suppose. He looked like death warmed over, too.”

At that, Poe looked at her sharply, and she, upon saying it, looked at him, too, as if she had just realized something. They met eyes, and Poe looked away guiltily.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing,” he said shortly. He sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look—I have a bitch of a headache right now. We’ll give you whatever you need. When are you planning—as I assume you’re planning—to attack this transport?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Okay. Okay,” Poe said, collecting his thoughts. “Gimme an hour, have some food, I’ll meet you in my office, okay?”

With Jannah’s agreement, Poe got to his feet, emotions roiling. The First Order—rising again. And Finn didn’t see fit to tell him. Not just that—Finn had been _upset_ , unable to face it, for _days_ now, and he hadn’t even mentioned it to Poe. Finn had just had his dick up Poe’s arse, and yet, when it came to his emotions, he wouldn’t share a thing. Like Poe was just a convenient hole. That hit Poe right where it hurt most, and that made him defensive, which made him angry. And that anger felt good, much better than the endless self-recriminations and fruitless yearning that taken up his mind recently. It felt clean, and active. How could Finn hide this from him?

Poe entered Finn’s room without knocking, finding his friend staring out the window from his desk chair, looking dejected. He faltered a bit at Finn’s ashen face, then regrouped admirably.

“What the fuck,” he said. Finn’s face crumpled a bit, and Poe immediately regretted it, his anger cooling markedly. “Why did I have to find out about the First Order recruiting kids from _Jannah_?”

Finn’s miserable eyes widened.

“We’re supposed to be _partners_ ,” Poe said, gesticulating wildly. “I _asked_ you, I directly asked you—”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Finn said, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “You have no _idea_ how I feel—”

“You’re right. You’re right, I don’t. And whose fault is that?” Poe said, a sharp, strange amusement in his tone. “Jannah had to tell me. Jannah had to tell me how you felt.”

Finn laughed bitterly.

“Oh, that’s hilarious coming from you,” Finn said, getting up from his chair and stepping closer to Poe. “That’s _hilarious,_ thanks for the laugh.”

Poe scowled. “If you were _hurting_ , you could have told me—but apparently,” his voice broke a little, “apparently, I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to actually share any of your damn emotions with.” He couldn’t quite keep the brittle edge out of his voice.

“You are such a hypocrite—” Finn broke off, astonished. His eyes were boring into Poe’s, like two hot coals. “Unbelievable—you _cry_ while we’re fucking—refuse to tell me why—and you—”

“That has nothing—” Poe began, stopping short at the look on Finn’s face.

Finn’s jaw clenched, and he looked down.

“Do you have any idea,” Finn said, voice low, “how that made me feel?”

Poe was utterly taken aback by the tight pain in Finn’s voice. He blinked, stock-still.

“I—” Poe tried weakly. “I’m sorry.”

He looked down, feeling chastened, and small, because Finn was right, wasn’t he? Poe, who had preached the importance of communication in sexual relationships, had shut down and run away right when he should have been open and transparent. A bit of honesty would have salvaged things, even if the price would have been their friendship, which, by the way, had been ruined anyway. At least if Poe had told the truth, Finn would have understood he was blameless, and he wouldn’t have that heartsick tone to his voice.

“You want to know how I feel?” Finn asked. “I feel like a monster. I feel like the First Order has made me into something I hate, into something that hurts the people I love. I feel like the boogeyman this whole organization was created to destroy.”

He was crying, now, silently, looking down at the floor. Poe felt like his insides had been ripped out, and stood in shocked silence.

“And I don’t even—I don’t even know what I did—”

Poe lurched forward, unable to watch his friend descend further into misery, and hugged Finn, and Finn let him, passively accepting Poe’s embrace as he cried softly.

“You didn’t do anything,” Poe said vehemently. “You did nothing wrong. You’re not a monster. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why—?” Finn croaked miserably over his shoulder.

“It’s my fault, it was all my fault,” Poe said. He drew back so he could look at Finn’s face. “I was just tired, and stressed, and overwhelmed—I shouldn’t have gone ahead with it, but I knew you’d been anxious to do it, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you. Your experience.”

Finn looked pained, and Poe felt like he must not be explaining himself very well. He pulled back completely and sat on Finn’s bed.

“I didn’t want you to have to wait anymore to get what you wanted,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Finn followed his lead, and sat down next to him, tear tracks down his face, an expression of innocent befuddlement on.

“But, Poe,” Finn said, “why would I ever want anything that would hurt you?”

Poe blinked, amazed at how Finn always seemed able to pull him up short. Amazed at the uncomplicated affection in the words he’d just said, at the matter-of-fact way they’d been spoken.

“I—” he said, unable to formulate a response, “I don’t know.” He looked at Finn, bewildered.

“Poe, you could say that you wanted to stop the second before I came, and that would be fine. I wouldn’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care, not even a little?” Poe replied, laughing a little.

“Don’t laugh, I’m being serious,” Finn said. He looked at Poe sternly, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And okay, maybe I would care a little, but I would accept it. Our friendship matters, _you_ matter, way more than any stupid sex thing. I thought I said that before we started all this.”

He _had_ said that, Poe reflected. He had. Poe wondered if he had ignored or flat-out not heard any other important things Finn had said.

“Jesus, Poe, I thought I had _hurt you_ ,” Finn said, miserably. “Did you really think I would have been upset if you had said no? Did I—did I make you think I was just using you for sex? Is that why you were crying?”

Tears began to burn behind Poe’s eyes. He cleared his throat a little and shifted. “Yeah,” he managed, “Yeah, a bit. That’s just—that’s just my own insecurities, though, you know? You didn’t do anything. I’m—not used to being valued for anything besides—you know.”

He smiled ruefully, ashamed of his past, of what he was admitting. He’d fucked so many people he’d lost count. He was the type of person they made after-school specials about. Men called him a slut and women called him a lothario. It was—he wasn’t proud of it.

“I figured maybe you only chose me because I was— _experienced_.”

Finn looked horrified. “Poe, _no_. I wanted to do it with you because I _trust_ you. I don’t care how many people you’ve fucked, _I trust you_. End of.”

“Oh,” Poe said stupidly. “I—I didn’t realize.”

To have his deepest insecurities contradicted so plainly, so stridently was—bizarre. He’d never experienced anything like it, probably because he’d never admitted them to anyone. He’d always expected that level of honesty to be met with discomfort and dismissal, at best. The level of raw relief and warmth he felt at Finn’s calm and measured acceptance of what Poe considered his most pathetic and unlikable trait was so big that he actually felt a little light-headed. He blinked back tears.

“And as for the Jannah thing,” Finn said quietly. “I just—I feel like I’m taking enough advantage of you as it is. I didn’t want to burden you with even more of my problems, when you already have so much on your shoulders.”

“But, Finn, I _want_ to know what’s going on with you. You’re my friend. Let me be there for you,” Poe countered, looking at Finn searchingly.

Finn nodded, a shy smile pulling across his face. “Okay,” he said. “But that goes both ways. I need to know how you’re feeling.”

Poe looked at him, eyes clear and soft. “Okay. Deal.”

Finn smiled, and took Poe’s hand in his. “Thank you.”

***

They had spent the rest of the day making arrangements with Jannah, tip-toeing around each other gingerly. It had been exhausting. Finn was mostly quiet, seeming reluctant to involve himself with the mission at all, though he hadn’t objected to the Resistance funding and arming and manning it. Poe had looked on with worry, but still didn’t feel it was his place to say anything. At the end of the day, all Poe had wanted to do was snuggle into his bed and sleep for a week. But instead, he would have to go to the fucking _party_.

Usually Poe was all for parties. He loved them. Would use essentially any excuse to have one. But at the moment, he felt as though his most important relationship had only _just_ averted disaster and might be hurtling toward another one. Sure, he’d made a deal that he’d share his feelings with Finn, but revealing his emotions would almost certainly destroy the relationship that deal had been intended to salvage. So, perhaps Poe wouldn’t be following the _letter_ of the law, but he would be following the _spirit_ , right?

 _Right_ , he thought to himself, standing underneath the banner Rose had made: _WELCOME HOME!_ As a leader of the Resistance, he’d had to attend a party welcoming to of its heroes home, no matter how tight his chest felt. He took another sip of his drink, and thought about Finn, saying Poe made him feel like he was a monster. Poe had deserved the gut-punch pain that had blossomed in him at that revelation. The whole point of their arrangement had been to build Finn’s confidence, and somehow Poe had managed to confirm every horrible fear Finn had disclosed. Gay sex is horrible and painful? Check. Finn was irrevocably messed up and unable to have healthy relationships? Check. Finn’s first time would be awful? Check. Had Poe missed any? He didn’t think so.

It almost made Poe laugh, because Finn was somehow more considerate than half the people Poe had been with, and yet he was afraid he was some sort of abusive, fucked up monster. Poe felt more cared for, in that moment, than he had in years. Decades. Since his mother died, maybe. _Why would I ever want anything that would hurt you?_ The moment was stuck in his head. It had been so simple, and so earnest. For all his life, Poe had thought love was about sacrifice, about suffering—fighting and dying for what you love—and had not considered that there was more to it than that. There was protection, there, and tenderness, and Poe wondered how he could have missed something so obvious. Perhaps, in the stranglehold of loving Finn with no hope of requitement, he’d been in so much pain he’d forgotten. He drained the rest of his drink and quickly got a refill.

Poe bit his lip. His self-preservation plan was clearly failing, on both fronts. Not only did it fail to protect Poe, it had actively harmed Finn, and that was not okay. And, besides, what was one more night? That was, of course, if Finn even wanted to continue with their little arrangement. Finn might be done with this. It had been what Poe had wanted—a way out of this nightmare—but he felt disappointment sweep low in his stomach. He didn’t want to leave it like this. He wanted one more night. And Finn deserved have his last impression of sex be better than Poe crying into his shoulder. Finn deserved everything. Poe had to apologize, make it up to him. He had to fix this. Poe would fix this. He had another drink, and another, and tried to formulate a plan.

Poe watched Finn from across the room, a little drunk. He was talking to Rey and laughing. Poe felt his eyes go all soft as he watched him. He wanted to be to Finn what Finn was to him: a safe place. He wanted Finn to come to him with his problems, his thoughts, his dreams. When he needed anything. _Come to me in the still of the night. I’ll be there, I’ll give you what you need_. Poe remembered Finn’s mumbled bit of praise: _I knew you’d show me, I knew you’d make me feel good_. Poe felt starved as he continued to watch Finn make his way through the crowd. He would. He’d show him. He’d make him feel good.

A young recruit who Poe only knew as Brian stopped Finn. He was small and blond and in his twenties. He made Poe look like a broken-down old man. Finn smiled at Brian, and Poe all the alcohol he’d consumed roil in his stomach hideously. Brian stepped closer, and Finn leaned in to hear him better, placing a hand on his arm.

“Oh,” Poe said, like he had been stabbed with something.

It made sense.

Finn would go to someone else. Now that he’d developed his _skills_. He would go to someone else. Someone less fucked up. Someone who didn’t cry. Someone who could put him first. Poe felt like he might be sick. He watched as Brian led Finn somewhere out of Poe’s view.

Poe stared after them. Something throbbed hotly in his brain. He’d show Finn. He’d show him how good he could make it. How it should be. Better than Brian could ever make it. No more self-preservation. He’d show him that Poe was devoted to him, that Poe could be everything he needed. _Come to me in the still of the night._ The phrase pulsed over and over in his mind, a half-deranged coda.

***

The night had turned hot and humid, and Finn’s room was cool and dark. He flopped on the bed inside, warmly tipsy and feeling quite pleased with himself. He and Poe had made up, and Finn hadn’t hurt Poe, at least not in the way he’d feared. He’d be more careful in the future, and make sure that Poe knew how much Finn valued him.

He shuffled to the bathroom, singing under his breath through giggles. After finishing up in there, he ducked into the fridge for a bottle of water. He was in the middle of chugging half of it down when the door opened again, and a dark figure stumbled inside.

“Poe?” he said happily, dragging his elbow across his mouth.

Poe peered at him. “Finn,” he finally said, laden with drunken profundity. He made his uneasy way over to Finn, at which point two heavy hands landed on the younger man’s waist. Poe staggered into him a little, but all Finn could do was stare at those hands, the large graceful thumbs digging into his hip. Something about the physical fact of them rendered him speechless. One thumb drew a circle on his hipbone, and he shivered. So different, he thought vaguely, from the way Poe usually touched him.

“Finn,” Poe repeated. “Finn. Let me—let me show you.” His hands squeezed where they sat, seemingly in frustration, and Poe leaned in to nose along Finn’s jawline. “I’m yours, anything you need. Anything you need.”

Finn slumped against him slightly, not quite computing Poe’s words, already warm from the wine and more than a little dizzy with the feel of Poe’s hair against his cheek. Suddenly the air seemed thick and overly warm as Poe licked a stripe up Finn’s pulse point, dragging a low moan from him.

“Jesus,” Finn breathed. It seemed to spur something in Poe, and he muscled him forward, towards the wall, until Finn’s head thumped against it in defeat. As if Finn ever had a chance against him. One large hand migrated to Finn’s hair and massaged there, and Finn’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the sensation. His own hands, which had been floating in confusion, finally grasped at Poe’s back. Poe yanked a bit at Finn’s hair, and Finn gradually realised, through a fog of buzzing pleasure, that he was trying to position his head. The hand previously on his waist moved to grasp at the side of his face, and Poe’s lips were slanting against him, warm and soft. Poe withdrew a moment, his thumb drawing a gentle line along Finn’s cheekbone, his dark gaze sweeping hotly over Finn’s face. Finn was boxed in, breathless, and fucking _hard_.

Poe kept a firm grasp on Finn’s head, as if he were some kind of recalcitrant child, as if the only thing standing in the way of Poe giving him a mind-blowing orgasm was Finn’s non-cooperation. He kissed him again, and Finn shifted one hand to cup Poe’s neck, the other down to his arse, to pull him closer. Poe took the hint, shoving a thigh in between Finn’s legs, making Finn’s hip thrust forward in reply. The previous tenderness was quickly abandoned as Poe began to lick into Finn’s mouth, wet and deep, crowding the length of his body against his. Finn’s world narrowed down to the slide of tongues and teeth, and he felt as if his brain were fizzling out in a rush of pleasure. Yes, he thought, _yes_. Poe was hard against him, and Finn mindlessly shifted his hips forward, moaning with the delicious friction of it all, and suddenly they were grinding against each other against a wall and it felt so fucking good Finn could scream. Poe was kissing Finn like he was on a fucking mission, while Finn’s own kisses were more meandering, more let-me-lick-the-wine-from-your-lips, let me map out every inch of you with my tongue, let me, _let me—_

They met somewhere in the middle, Finn dazed with it, letting Poe take over. Though they were standing still, Finn felt dizzy and disoriented and overly warm, like the world was spinning around him and the only reason he wasn’t spinning with it is Poe’s fucking _thigh_ , warm and solid where it was touching his cock through too many layers of clothing. Poe abandoned Finn’s mouth, moving to his jaw, and Finn breathed heavily once he was released, panted really, wondering if this were a particularly vivid dream. Poe’s mouth withdrew once more, though his hands migrated back to Finn’s hair.

“Come to _me_ ,” Poe was saying, his gaze heavy and lidded, staring at Finn’s lips, slick and kiss-swollen. “Come to me when you need someone. Not—not Jannah, not Rose, not Rey. You come to _me_ ,” he was murmuring, his voice low and gravelly and intimate. “You come to me and I’ll give you what you need, anything you need.”

Finn couldn’t suppress the shudder than ran through him at that, his mind scattered and pleasure-drowned as he stared into Poe’s dark eyes. Poe, seemingly not minding the lack of response, simply tugged Finn’s head back by his hair and scraped his teeth against the underside of his jaw.

“Oh god,” Finn said weakly, and if that had been calculated to bring his mind back online, it both worked and didn’t.

“Yeah,” Poe said, biting and kissing his way to Finn’s earlobe. “Fucking—just—let me—what do you _need_ —fucking tell me—”

He was sucking a bruise onto Finn’s collarbone, near his neck, pulling at his hair, rocking his hips against Finn’s, and Finn was on fire, his skin was buzzing, he was fucking delirious.

“Anything,” Finn gasped, finally. “Anything, anything you want.” It sounded like he was begging, and perhaps he _was_ , because he meant it, he’d take anything Poe wanted to give him. Poe made a noise like he was dying, a sort of pained moan, and pulled Finn forward. They stumbled, the two of them, drunk and clumsy, but Poe tugged them toward the bed successfully. He was all hands, hot and roaming, grabbing at Finn’s arse, running along his back, scraping down his chest. Finn was reciprocating the best he could, but Poe was too busy shoving and manhandling to pay much notice. Next time, Finn thought, next time we’ll go nice and slow and I’ll—

_Next time?_ Who said there’ll be a next time? Who knew what this even _meant_? Finn had the vague idea that this was Poe trying to apologize, trying to prove something to him, but as Finn’s head hit the bed, as Poe grabbed his knees and pushed them apart, those thoughts floated away.

“Back,” Poe demanded, and Finn obliged, working himself backward on his elbows until his entire body was on the bed. He tracked Poe with his eyes as the other man climbed on top of him, his weight settling heavy, almost too much, crushing the breath out of his chest for a moment. They kissed again, slick and slow intense, until a sick-hot wave of arousal rose in Finn’s body and he moaned. Poe thrusted his hips into his, his eyes closed, his face scrunched in noiseless pleasure. Finn couldn’t fucking stand it—he needed—he needed something—he was going to pass out—

“Being so good for me,” Poe said lowly, continually rolling his hips. “Jesus, Finn, I—”

He didn’t finish his thought, instead opting to sit back on his knees, dark eyes sweeping over Finn’s body, as if he were some kind of puzzle that needed solving. Finn made a little disappointed noise at that, but it was quickly assuaged when Poe’s hands grabbed at his buckle. Finn sat up so he could kiss Poe as the other man worked at his belt, and he grinned when, as he deepened the kiss, Poe’s sure hands faltered for a moment.

“Fuck,” Poe ground out. The belt was quickly conquered after that, and Finn’s pants were dealt with as well. Jesus, Poe hadn’t even touched his cock yet, and Finn felt himself straining against the seams of his underwear.

“’M not doing much better,” Finn mumbled, placing his hands over his eyes for a moment. He felt Poe’s hands grab at his sides, and Finn took the hint and rolled over onto his stomach. Poe’s hands ran gently up his back and then back down to his arse, and then he was spread over Finn’s body, biting gently at his neck, his cock hard and hot against him. Finn couldn’t help but rock backwards into it, it felt like fucking _heaven_ , and the movement dragged his cock against the soft sheets, punching a desperate noise out of him.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Finn said, his voice half-muffled, and Poe’s touch turned rough enough to leave him breathless once again. He rocked against Finn’s arse, hands grabbing his hips like he wanted to break him, until they were suddenly grabbing at the elastic on his boxers and pulling down. Entirely exposed to Poe’s sight, Finn felt dizzy and desperate, his chest heaving in the too-hot room. Poe was sitting up now, shifting himself backward so he was sitting on Finn’s calves, and he shoved up Finn’s shirt impatiently so he could press a lingering kiss to the small of his back.

“Fuck,” Finn said, his gaze feeling lidded and heavy as he looked back at Poe the best he could. Poe’s stubble was tickling his skin and heat was creeping all over his body.

Finn felt Poe smile as he placed a small kiss on his hip. Large hands grabbed at his arse, pulling him apart roughly, and it was only when Finn felt Poe’s hot breath ghosting over his hole that he realized what was happening—and it hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. He was shaking a little when he felt Poe’s tongue, one long lick, along the crease of his arse. Finn’s breath hissed out of him at how unbelievable it felt, a shock of sensation running along his spine, renewed when Poe returned with the flat of his tongue: wet, slick pressure that made Finn’s blood burn.

“Hah, oh, fuck,” he said as Poe licked at him, feeling like he was coming apart at the seams, grabbing at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself. “That’s—that’s so fucking good—you’re so fucking—” He cut himself off with a moan as Poe’s tongue swirled wet against his hole. “Oh, _God_.”

“Knee up,” came Poe’s voice. Even though Finn obeyed quickly, Poe’s hand grabbed at his thigh and pushed it upward so Finn’s knee was bending to the side, opening him up further. And then he was back, hands pulling Finn apart, but he bit one of Finn’s arse cheeks this time before returning to his spit-slicked hole, the feel of his breath ghosting along it making Finn give a full-body shiver. Poe began to lick at him in earnest once more, pushing his tongue in every now and again, until Finn was vibrating with it, moaning nearly nonstop.

“Fucking _shit_ , Poe—that’s so good—your mou—your _mouth_ —what are you—don’t fucking stop, please please—”

Finn could practically _feel_ the grin on Poe’s face as he backed off, rubbing at Finn with two fingers. Finn whined. Poe then redoubled his efforts, tongue rough and wet against his slick, fluttering hole, so fucking perfect Finn thought he might cry. Finn started pushing his arse back into Poe’s mouth, unable to help himself, and Poe’s reply was to rub at the skin between his balls and his hole, prompting Finn to shove his face into the pillow in sheer bone-melting pleasure.

“Keep talking,” came Poe’s voice, sounding ragged. “Like when you talk.”

Finn swallowed thickly. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly. He was sweating now, grinding his cock into the bed. “Want me to say how good it feels, how I—oh, fuck, keep on doing that, right there, right there, ple—”

He faintly registered his desire for Poe to touch his cock, but decided that the neglect was working for him, somehow, making him almost feral with desperation. He felt a wave of heat and pressure growing inside him, gathering low in his belly, and focused on the throbbing ache in his cock and the fluttering of the inner muscles of his arse.

“Poe, fuck, you’re so good, you make me feel so good,” he gasped, surprised at his ability to manage a full sentence while his entire body is shuddering continuously.

“Hmm,” was the only indication Poe gave that he even heard him, and _god,_ Poe was basically tongue-fucking him now, alternating that with laving the flat of his tongue over Finn’s hole. Finn couldn’t stop fucking _shaking_ , and suddenly felt as if he might cry, felt his orgasm coming at him like some kind of ominous wave, looming so large he was almost apprehensive. His hole was wet and throbbing, Poe’s stubble scratching deliciously against him, and all Finn could do was push back against his mouth frantically, blind and deaf and numb to anything but the sensations carrying him like a wave. It built and built and built, and he knew words were coming out of his mouth, but who the fuck _cared_ , it was good, it was good, it was so fucking good—

Poe’s moan was what really set it off, a low noise that sounded punched out of him, muffled by Finn’s skin, and the thought of Poe enjoying this, it—it was too much.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Finn distantly heard himself repeating, as if warning Poe off. “You’re gonna make me come. You’re gonna—you’re gonna—”

Finn’s arse clenched, his thighs locked up, the sick-hot wave of sheer pleasure enveloped him, washed over him, making him shudder and sweat and curse and moan, and Poe kept on licking at him. He felt wet and open and he was dimly aware of cum spurting out of his throbbing cock. The pleasure whipped through Finn as he twisted and convulsed in Poe’s sure, strong grip, his hole pulsing and fluttering. “Oh,” he said, “Oh, _god_ ,” because he felt like it was never going to end. He stopped shaking what felt minutes later, and Poe slapped him on the arse lightly. The casual way he did so could not cover the fact that he was panting heavily, and when he walked himself further up Finn’s body on his knees, Finn turned over onto his back and could see how dark Poe’s eyes seemed, pupils blown fully, his cock straining against his pants.

At some point, Poe must have unbuckled them and opened the flies, because he easily shoved them down, and his cock bobbed up, flushed purple and angry. Finn’s mouth watered at the sight, but Poe just licked his own hand and palmed himself. He looked slightly unhinged, staring down at him, and Finn considered the possibility that the other man was much drunker than he’d previously thought. But all he did was stretch a little under Poe, boneless and soft. The other man looked massive above him, endearingly red-faced and sweaty, his hair all over the place, his cock hanging heavy between them. Finn was in awe of him.

“You’re beautiful,” Finn said dreamily. “You’re so beautiful.”

Poe grunted and looked down at that, eyes liquid and wide. He began jerking himself faster. Finn’s hand floated up to surround his.

“Lemme,” Finn murmured. Poe seemed surprised, and let go after a moment. Finn stared up at the other man, lips parted, as his hand worked at his cock. Pausing a moment, he licked at his palm so it would glide smoother.

“Jesus Christ, Finn,” Poe ground out, looking as though he were just barely keeping his sanity. When Finn’s hand returned to his cock, he leaned forward on one palm, resting it next to Finn’s head. He gazed at Finn softly a moment, before Finn sped up his strokes, prompting a “Fuck, fuck, _fuck”_ through clenched teeth.

Poe was panting, voice wrecked, his muscular thighs tensed up so that Finn stared at them a good minute, imagining Poe using them to fuck him until he could hardly walk, and _oh my god_ , Finn was in so much trouble. _You’re beautiful_ , he thought, staring up at his friend, _You’re so, so beautiful_. Poe’s eyes were screwed shut, and he was making punched-out noises, his hips thrusting in tight little circles, and Finn knew he was close.

“Come on,” Finn bit out, speeding up his hand, staring up at Flint. “Come on. Want your cum all over me. Give it to me. _Come on_.”

Where had that come from? Finn didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Poe’s thrusts got tight and tense, little _hah_ s escaping his lips, his mouth opening while the rest of his face scrunched tightly. “Oh, fucking—Jesus—” he ground out, his hips going sloppy as cum shot from his cock, landing on Finn’s hand, his chest, his mouth, his hair. Poe let out a stuttering exhale that sounded almost painful as he finally slowed down. He was panting as he fell forward onto Finn, who was breathing just as hard at the feeling of hot cum splashing on him.

“Jesus,” Finn breathed, dazedly dragging his hand through a glob on his collarbone. Poe’s own breathing was still harsh, and Finn liked how he could feel the other man’s ribcage expanding on top of him. He ran a hand down his front, delighting in it, but Poe mistook it for Finn trying to push him off.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, beginning to roll off, but he was stopped by Finn’s hand on his back.

“No don’t—” Finn started, but found he couldn’t finish the sentence. Don’t what? Don’t _go_? Don’t _leave_? How could he say something like that, when he wasn’t really sure _what_ he wanted. All he had was this vague idea of _more_. He tried again. “You don’t have to—”

Poe just smiled lazily, and rolled off anyway. “Don’t wanna crush you.” He was still breathless, and Finn grinned inwardly at that. They were side by side now, and Finn turned his head to Poe’s eyes closed, though the hand smoothing his hair back indicated he was still awake.

“Just gimme a minute. I’ll get a towel for—to clean,” Poe said, sounding a bit ragged. Finn simply watched as he fell asleep, smiling softly to himself, forcing himself not to wonder what it all meant.

What did he want it to mean, he wondered, as he stroked a dark curl away from Poe’s face gently. What did he _want_? It felt like a question that was foreign to Finn, somehow, and he didn’t know how to begin to answer it. He rolled Poe’s soft hair in his fingers experimentally. His friend looked so soft in his sleep, and Finn was suddenly overcome by a wave of protective tenderness. He wrapped his arms around Poe, wanting to have the whole of him safe in his embrace. The urge wasn’t one that he understood, but in that moment, it seemed too important to ignore.

That morning’s angst and heartbreak seemed so far away. Poe, for some reason, still seemed to want him, both as a friend and as a—whatever else they were, and Finn was so, so relieved. He had to believe his friend’s assurances that Finn had done nothing wrong. Maybe, like Poe had, Finn had projected his own fears onto the situation, had _looked_ for confirmation of his deepest fears and therefore found it. But their friendship was strong enough to withstand any storm, even one of their own making, one borne of silly fears and good, thought misguided, intentions. There were worst things to fight over, he supposed, than how your friend didn’t want to hurt you.

Poe snuggled closer to Finn in his sleep, and Finn smiled. He’d worry about Jannah tomorrow.

***

Finn woke up softly the next morning, everything in a golden haze. Sun was streaming in from the window, and he was cozily ensconced in blankets and warmth. He snuggled closer to the source of the warmth—clean musk and cinnamon, on a deep inhale—and drowsily opened his eyes.

“Poe?” he asked, groggily confused. He stretched, limbs loose and soft and— _oh_.

Finn suddenly remembered what Poe was doing in his bed, and grinned. God, it had been astounding. Life-altering. Not that the sex before hadn’t been good, but something about this time—the way Poe had touched him. There had been something less measured, less economical about it, and Finn couldn’t get enough. _Maybe that was the next lesson_ , he thought darkly. _How to touch someone like they are really your lover_. The idea made something in him go brittle.

Poe snuffled softly and turned to face Finn, squinting and frowning accusingly, as if Finn had woken him up with a trombone. His hair looked like he’d been a victim of an electric shock and it made Finn feel so warmly affectionate he hardly knew what to do with himself. Was he allowed to—touch? He wasn’t sure what rules they were playing by, anymore.

“Good morning,” Finn said.

Poe gave him an absolutely filthy look. “Is it?” He turned over and smashed his face into the pillow. A moment later he shot up, and looked at Finn with wide eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What?!” Finn asked, panicked. Had they forgotten an important meeting? Was Jannah leaving _today_? No, that was definitely tomorrow. What—?

“I’m so sorry,” Poe said, still giving Finn that wide-eye look.

Wait—what? “For what?” 

“We haven’t even talked about—this. And you were drunk. _I took advantage of you!”_ Poe exclaimed, a horrified look on his face.

Oh. Was that all?

“I’m pretty sure you were drunker than me. If anything, _I_ took advantage of _you_ ,” Finn said flatly.

Poe’s jaw dropped for a second. “So—you’re not. Mad?” he asked warily.

“ _Mad_?” Finn asked incredulously. “I think I came so hard I blacked out. No. No, I’m not _mad_.”

Poe snorted at his tone. “You did _not_ , shut _up_ ,” he said, whacking Finn playfully on the shoulder.

“No, no, I almost did,” Finn said, laughing. “I think my mind, like, ascended from my body. Entered another plane of existence.”

Poe was laughing, too, a silent thing that Finn could usually only elicit when Poe was drunk. Maybe he still _was_ drunk.

“I’ll show _you_ another plane of existence,” Poe said when he was done laughing, completely with a limply menacing fist.

“I’m sure you will,” Finn replied, nonchalant, “When you fuck me.”

Finn was taking a gamble, here, unsure if Poe was still onboard with their arrangement. But he couldn’t let go of the yearning for _more_ that had seemingly invaded his life. He wasn’t ready to stop being so close to his friend.

Poe made a noise that sounded like he was choking. “Jesus Christ, what have I done?” he cried. 

Finn smiled widely.

“Seriously, though, you still—you still want me to?” Poe asked, intently.

Finn frowned, confused. “Yeah, of course.”

“Even after—?” Poe didn’t finish his question.

“Yeah,” Finn said, “so long as we stick to our deal.”

“Of course,” Poe answered easily, rubbing at his eyes like a child.

“Though,” Finn said, prompting his friend to look at him sharply, “maybe we could wait until after this Jannah thing? I need a little time to think.”

Finn could only handle one potentially panic-attack-inducing thing at a time.

“As much time as you need, bud,” Poe said warmly, looking at him carefully.

Finn felt himself go pensive, staring at the ceiling and wondering what exactly he should do. Now that he and Poe were good, he felt more able to think through the situation clearly. He still had his reasons for not going, and Poe had already provided everything Jannah needed on an operational level. The idea didn’t bother him so much in the warm enclave of his and Poe’s shared bed. Later, it might. But there was nothing to be done for that, at this point. Resistance members would be going whether Finn liked it or not. He was actually sort of happy that decision had been taken out of his hands. The only thing he would have to choose was if _he_ would go or not, and he felt a little frisson of anxiety at the mere thought. But Jannah would be so angry if he didn’t go. He felt lost, trapped between two evils, and unsure which was the lesser.

Breaking the silence, Poe said, quietly, “You never tell me about your childhood.”

Finn shook his head, eyes still on the ceiling. 

“You could if you wanted, you know,” Poe offered. “I could help you carry it.”

At Poe’s words, something finally clicked into place in Finn’s brain. A flash of last night: Poe’s voice, gravelly in the dim light of his bedroom. _Come to me when you need someone. You come to me and I’ll give you what you need, anything you need._ Could that be what he had meant? Finn had thought he meant _sexually_ , though, looking back, the specific mention of Jannah and Rey and Rose seemed to preclude that idea. And during their fight, their conversation about Poe’s sexual history. Finn felt like an idiot. How could he have missed how deeply entrenched this issue was?

Finn sighed. He’d wanted to keep the two things separate, not have the black muck of his childhood stain his beautiful present, stain the man who baptized him into his new life. He hadn’t realized he was hurting Poe in the process.

There were things, though, that he didn’t tell anybody. That he _couldn’t_ tell anybody.

“I want to help you carry it,” Poe said, when he didn’t respond.

“No, you don’t, trust me,” Finn replied, not unkindly, still staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze. Poe didn’t know what he was asking for.

Poe exhaled. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.” He paused. “I hope you understand why I had to help Jannah.”

Finn turned his head to look at him questioningly. Poe was looking back at him with an almost unbearably open expression.

“I didn’t do it to spite you,” he said. “I did it because I see you struggle with your childhood all the time. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let those kids grow up the same way you did.”

Finn could see in Poe’s eyes that he was asking for forgiveness, for confirmation that he had done the right thing. He had the sudden urge to tell Poe _everything_.

“I know,” Finn said quietly.

Everything, down to the bloody handprint on his helmet.

“I know.”

***

Finn and Jannah had breakfast together that day. “If you’re worried about Poe, don’t be—that man adores you,” Jannah said, poking at her fruit salad.

She had calmed down markedly since Poe had provided her with the manpower and arms that she needed to rescue the kids. Now she just seemed worried about Finn.

He frowned. Perhaps Poe really did think he wanted to know—but he didn’t, not really. Not only that, there was Finn’s too-slow revelation that Poe put everything on his own shoulders. Had Finn not realized he’d been crying, Poe would have never told him. Poe would have let Finn take and take and take. And Finn simply would not abide that. If Poe wouldn’t protect himself, Finn would do it for him.

“Besides, it’s kind of a foregone conclusion at this point. The Resistance is going, whether you go along with them or not,” Jannah continued thoughtfully, spearing at a pineapple savagely. “You’re in a unique position to help them. You know what’s at stake, you know how the First Order operates.”

Finn didn’t really know what he was so afraid of. He supposed he had some kind of strange idea that his friends and colleagues would take one look at those kids and suddenly know everything. They would at the very least see the trauma he’d gone through, and the rift between him and them would widen even further, with looks of pity and whispered gossip. At the very worst, it would make them take a second and really think about things—really think through the reality of Finn being in the First Order—and begin to wonder what the hell a Stormtrooper was doing heading an organization dedicated to the destruction of Stormtroopers. Begin to wonder what exactly he’d been made to do. Begin to wonder if anyone can be redeemed from that.

They would start asking questions that Finn had trouble answering himself.

Finn hadn’t even touched his food to begin with. The sight of it was actually making him feel a bit sick. He set his fork down, trying to take deep breaths.

“The only reason I’ve made it so far,” Finn said, voice tight with emotion, “is because I don’t think about it. All that happened to a different person.”

Jannah touched his arm.

“No, Finn,” she said quietly. “It happened to you.”

Finn shook his head firmly. “No,” he grit out. “And that’s why I can’t go. If I see—If I see one of those kids—” He paused, trying to breathe through the rising sobs that were threatening. “If I see one of those kids, I can’t pretend anymore. I’ll have to—I will have to say, ‘I was one of those kids,’ and, Jannah, I can’t—”

He shut his eyes against a rising wave of tears. His face was beginning to crumple. It was embarrassing. He sighed and looked down, shoving at his eyes.

“Finn,” Jannah said gently. “You can’t change the past. I know that hurts, but you can’t.”

“I know, Jannah,” he said, “That’s why I’m trying to look to the future. The Resistance. My friends.”

“You think just because you’ll ignore it, it’ll disappear, but, Finn, that’s not how it works,” she said, eyes intent. “The past will make itself known, one way or other.”

Finn thought of his anxiety attacks, about the distance he felt between himself and others. The marginally insane sexual arrangement he’d instigated. About the way Poe said to him, I see you struggle. Maybe Finn had been doing worse than he thought he was. 

“But how, Jannah? Where do I even begin?” Finn asked desperately.

He knew, vaguely, what he had to do, but he had no idea how to go about it. There was no way forward that he could identify, let alone one that he could follow.

Jannah gave a sad smile. “I’m not sure,” she said, “I’m still figuring it out myself. One thing I know for sure: the only way out, is through.”

Finn exhaled, and looked down. “I’m scared, Jannah,” he said quietly.

“I know, babes,” she said. “It won’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.”

Finn, of all people, knew the truth of that. Nothing about any of this had been easy: not escaping, even though he was leaving behind a lifetime of abuse and heartache, for it was the only thing he had ever known; not the culture shock that greeted him while he was getting adjusting to life Outside; not the frightening new emotions he was suddenly allowed to have; not steadily learning how to be intimate with someone. It had been a learning curve, and a steep one, fraught with all sorts of pitfalls. But he hadn’t given up, even when he thought he would never get where he wanted to go. He had always found a way forward, even if sometimes the only way of finding it had been carving it out himself. There was always a way forward.

***

Poe was bickering with BB-8, guts-deep in his ship, when Finn found him.

“Poe?” Finn asked, with false bravado.

His curly mop appeared, a distracted expression on his face.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I’m going with Jannah tomorrow.”

That got his attention. His dark eyes sharpened immediately.

“Yeah?” he asked. His eyebrows knit into a firm expression. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, no,” Finn said quickly. “No—I have to—I think I have to be alone for this.”

With every moment since he’d made his decision, he’d become more and more sure that it was the right thing to do. He just wasn’t quite sure that he was prepared to involve Poe. At least not yet.

Poe blinked, his expression carefully blank. “Alone except for Jannah.”

“No,” Finn said. Poe’s face did something complicated. “I mean—yeah, she’ll be there, but it’s more like—she’s a former Trooper, too, so she doesn’t count.”

Poe’s eyes softened a fraction. “I’m sure you already know I’d rather be there with you,” he said, “so I won’t waste my breath saying it.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn said.

“No, no, Jesus, no. I understand. Some things—some things, you gotta face alone.” His eyes found Finn’s. They were lamp-lit and intent. “But if you ever get tired of being alone, you—you know where to find me,” he said quietly.

Finn nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you,” he said.

“Anytime, bud,” Poe said, gazing at him with an inscrutable expression. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many ways can u say I love u without saying I love u


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I dunno if people still do this, but my key inspirations for this were a few songs in particular. If you're interested, they were:
> 
> Outta My Mind - Monsune (funky falsetto about yearning w great baseline)  
> Show Me Heaven - Marina McKee (gloriously corny 80's power ballad. cannot recommend enough.)  
> Look What You're Doing to Me - BANKS ft Francis & the Lights (anthem of unrequited love & angst. very on brand.)  
> comme si - Christine & the Queens (if anyone ever asked me for a mission statement for this story, it would be the way Chris says, "we are making lo-ooooove")
> 
> As stated earlier, sex scenes were written with aid of Miguel and D'Angelo lol

“Did you ever see—did you ever see the educational module—where a guy in the background—gets spit on by taun-taun and they never edited it out?” Finn asked through hysterical laughter, sitting on the floor of the Falcon next to Jannah.

“You saw that one, too?” Jannah shrieked, clutching her stomach, she was laughing so hard. “I thought I had imagined that!”

“Me and JO laughed so hard I thought I was going to puke. We got in _so_ much trouble. Phasma made me polish her armor every night for a month. JO said—JO said to her—she was right, it could use a bit of—a bit of _spit and polish_ ,” Finn said between gasps of laughter.

“Oh my _god_ , she probably nearly burst a blood vessel!”

He and Jannah had been reminiscing about their Trooper days for a couple of hours over very strong Corellian rum (compliments of Lando). It felt good to talk about it, better than he thought it would, raw and strangely warm. He was happy he had come. He felt almost drunk on the remembrance of it all, talking about something he’d tucked away for years now. Strangest of all was thinking about JO, JO-172 as he was formally known, who had been his first and only real friend in the First Order. Who had set him on a collision course that he never recovered from.

He and Jannah were on the Falcon, one of a fleet of ships, all filled with volunteers, on their way to intercepting the transport. Finn’s heart had warmed at the idea, hundreds of people risking their lives to save kids that were in the same position he’d been in nearly twenty years ago. People he’d feared would turn a blind eye or would outright withhold their help had instead given their time and energy to help these kids. In ten hours, they’d be raiding the ship and, if all went to plan, freeing the children.

“So what’s up with you and Poe?” Jannah asked, interrupting Finn’s reverie. “You’re fucking, right?”

Finn choked on thin air. “I—what? How did you know that? Did Poe tell you?”

Jannah grinned. “Poe didn’t tell me shit,” she said, laughing at the stunned expression on Finn’s face. “You two are just so _obvious_.”

“We’re just—”

“Friends?” she asked. “Hmm, okay, let me think: best friends who sometimes fuck each other—isn’t that just _dating_?”

Something about her question hit a raw spot inside Finn.

“It’s not,” he said weakly, “it’s not serious.”

Jannah fixed him with incisive look. “Do you _want_ something serious?”

Finn blinked. He opened his mouth to answer, but he abruptly realized he had no idea what to say. Did he want something serious? He wasn’t sure. He remembered the vague _more_ he felt every time he touched Poe, the dizzying heights of that drunken night when Poe had spoken lowly to him, spoken like a lover. The mere thought of his friend sent something in him to stirring, but he wasn’t sure if it was fear or anxiety or something—else.

Jannah leaned back onto the wall they were sitting against and tilted her head back to look in the distance.

“It’s okay to want something, you know,” she said easily, not looking at Finn.

Finn looked over at her with large eyes. She shifted, bringing her knees up against her chest. Her eyes went far away.

“They took away all our choices,” she eventually continued, voice going tight with emotion. “So that we never learned to _want_ anything.” She paused, and Finn could see her jaw clench. “That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right of them.”

Finn, unsure what to say, simply watched her. She was his sister, in a way.

“I’ve really struggled with it,” she said. “Getting out was one thing—wanting to get _away_ from something is very different from wanting to move _toward_ something, you know?”

She turned to face him, eyes liquid with emotion, and rested her head against the wall. Finn copied her, so that they were mirror images.

“I don’t think I can do it,” he said quietly.

She smiled softly. “You’re already fucking doing it, babes,” she said, her voice gentle. “Let yourself want him.”

Finn felt his lips twist into a bitter smile. “He thinks I’m something I’m not—someone strong, someone good. If he knew,” he stumbled, “if he knew the truth—”

Jannah watched him with her glittering dark eyes, head tilted. “He already knows you were a Trooper, Finn,” she said, confused.

“Yeah, but, there’s knowing, and there’s _knowing_ , you know?”

Jannah snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“It’s strange,” he said, staring at the ground, “our—sexual relationship started as a way for me to be more normal, to fix one of the more visible things wrong with me, but in the process I wound up revealing way more than I meant to.”

“And has he ever made you feel less-than for it?” Jannah asked.

“No,” Finn said, tears coming to his eyes. “No, he hasn’t. It felt good to tell him.” He looked down again. “Sometimes—sometimes I want to tell him _everything_. I want him to understand.”

They were silent for a moment. Jannah poured more rum into both their cups and took a long drink of hers. Eventually she spoke.

“The first relationship I had after leaving,” she said, “that power, that control—whether I tell or not—at first, it was a blessing. If I could keep my mouth shut, I thought, she would never know. It was foolish of me to think she couldn’t see something was wrong.”

Finn thought of Poe’s quiet concern. No matter how Finn had tried to hide it, Poe had known. He hadn’t been able to understand exactly what was going on, but he had picked up on Finn’s pain.

“It became a curse, though, because, if I wanted her to know—and I did—I would have to tell her myself. I’d have to say the words. She wasn’t a mind reader. She couldn’t divine my secrets.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was low and wistful. “I’d hoped that love would be enough, that it would open some sort of channel and she’d know everything—but it didn’t. And my secrets just left me isolated and adrift, unable to connect when I was _desperate_ to.”

She sighed heavily, letting her body unfold once more.

“Learn from my mistakes. If you want him to understand, you gotta speak up, babes.”

Finn’s eyes scalded with tears and he looked down. He asked, quietly, “How can I give him access to something I can barely stand to look at myself?”

Jannah smiled sadly, and placed her hand in his.

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s far less terrifying to confront things when you have someone by your side.” She grinned at him softly. “Why do you think I wanted you to come on this op so fucking badly?”

Finn looked at her fondly, toasted their glasses, and swallowed the rest of his rum. It burned at his throat, but that felt right, somehow. He knew in some obscure way that he would return from this mission changed, and the thought was both terrifying, and welcome. In any case, he considered, it was too late to stop now. He had the feeling that whatever he’d set in motion wouldn’t stop until it was done with him.

He _wanted_ things to change, but he was scared that they would change in ways that he wasn’t ready for, or so that he wouldn’t recognize himself at the end. Who would he be without this weight like a millstone around his neck? Someone he would barely recognize, undoubtedly. Someone just beyond that door.

***

Finn didn’t remember much from his early childhood. Some vague, tangled, murky scenes flitted through shadows in the back of his head, but, for the most part, his first memories were of bright white chrome and sterile fluorescent lighting. He’d had a vague notion that, before, he must have been Outside, and had shivered a bit at the thought. Outside was not something that was much spoken of, and when it was, it was painted with shadows, and poverty, and sickness. By age ten, Finn had been quite certain he’d been rescued from a horrible fate the day the First Order had murdered his family and razed his planet. The Officers had regularly threatened misbehaving trainees with the idea of Outside—a place that was once their home.

Fifteen had found him training with an elite unit. He was strong, and fast, and sharp. He had dutifully waxed and shined his armor every night. An injury during training had devastated him, and set him on a collision course he’d tried in vain to correct for many, many self-castigating years. Another trainee, one he’d never met before, was being treated for a burn. JO-5678. The reason they’d never met was because JO was the worst trainee in, perhaps, the entire history of trainees. He was skinny, and sallow, and haunted. “Not even fit to clean the loos,” he had been fond of saying of himself, in his Imperial accent. They had become friends during those long, boring days of healing, and one night, JO had said, in a whisper, as they had lain side by side in the dark:

“I remember them, you know.”

Finn—or as he was known then, FN—had been puzzled.

“Remember what?”

“My parents.”

Finn had been silent, staring at the white ceiling, listening to the steady beep of his own vitals.

“I remember everything.”

Finn had lain in his bed and listened to JO’s little sobs all night, and in the morning, JO had been gone. Finn had never really recovered.

He’d thought of JO the whole flight with Jannah. They were gearing up, now, getting ready to board to transport, and he wondered if there were any Troopers like JO on board: disillusioned, too damaged to be reprogrammed, sent to die on the front lines.

Finn looked at Jannah beside him. “I’d like to think I’d have drawn the line at being ordered to steal children,” he said quietly.

Jannah grimaced. Facing current Troopers was never an easy task. There was no way of knowing who had been kidnapped and brainwashed, and who had volunteered. Finn had to live with the fact that, every time he killed a Stormtrooper, he was condemning someone for the same crimes he himself had committed.

They were pulling up in the transport’s blind spot. In a few minutes, they’d be too close for the ship to get away in time. There would be no escape. Finn’s chest tightened as he considered it. He wished Poe was there. He’d know just what to say.

The volunteer troops were mustered behind him, and in several other ships nearby. The air was tense. Everyone around Finn was looking to him for the go-ahead.

“Use non-lethal force unless your life is threatened,” he ordered. “On my signal.”

He took a deep breath, and gave it. Not a moment later, the Resistance ships broke formation to surround the transport. Small fighters entered the field and began to target First Order weapons. Finn’s legs were somehow carrying him ahead.

This was it.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears as they boarded the transport not five minutes later. There seemed to smoke everywhere as he and his men dodged blasts from Troopers wielding antiquated weapons. Clearly the First Order had only _just_ escaped extinction: they were hanging on by a thread, and no longer had the funds for new weapons.

Finn, blasting and fighting his way through the white swarm of Troopers, hardly even realized what he was doing. He felt like he was on some sort of berserker auto-pilot, desperate to fight his way into the bowels of the ship, where the children most likely were. He kicked the legs out from under one Trooper, and shot another, cracking his visor nearly in half, with barely a thought. All he cared about was the kids. He needed to get to those kids.

The Troopers were badly outnumbered, and half seemed to be deserting or outright surrendering to Finn’s men. No one had reported any sightings of the children yet. Finn, growing impatient, slammed one Trooper into a wall and shoved him into the ground. He placed one heavy boot on the plated chest and aimed his blaster at the blank dark eyes.

“The kids,” he said menacingly. “Where are they?”

“The—the hold,” came a quavering voice. Finn had no idea what look he currently had on his face, but it seemed to be scaring the shit out of this Trooper. “A secret compartment, there’s a hatch!”

“If you’re lying to me…” Finn said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m not, I swear, please!” the Trooper yelped.

Finn slammed his boot into the Trooper’s chest. The man grunted; the chest plate took most of the hit, and was now dented.

“So I can find you, if the need arises,” Finn said, smiling sharply. “You better pray the need does not arise.”

He set off running, grabbing Jannah as he passed her. She seemed to understand immediately, and followed him without question.

Familiar with the floor plan of this type of ship from his days in the First Order, he quickly guided Jannah down to the hold, where he thought such a secret compartment was likely to be. He began to search frantically for some sort of hatch, down on his hands and knees. Jannah, meanwhile, radioed for her men to come down and help before starting to search herself. They had decided her crew of former Troopers might be the best option for the kids’ first interaction after being abducted. The idea of a Trooper background making someone the best option for anything had been a bit of a bizarre pill for Finn to swallow. He supposed he ought to be glad his experiences were of some use to these kids, because they certainly hadn’t been any use to him.

Finn was too wired to think about what he might find inside the hatch. They had no idea how the kids had been treated, or, if—he could barely consider it—they had been harmed or eliminated at the news of invading forces. His hands shook as he smoothed them over the floor, searching for a seam or a hinge.

“Hah!” he cried, victorious, finding a seam. He followed it, his head swimming, to a locking mechanism. His blaster made easy work of it, and he opened the hatch and peered down.

The sounds of frightened children—sobbing, whimpering, screaming—reached him immediately, and he staggered back, stomach dropping sickeningly. The memory—crying in the dark hold of a ship similar to this one, surrounding by other children, some dully silent, some calling for their mothers—made his blood turn to ice. He’d thought he’d forgotten—but it all came back in a rush, as if it had been yesterday, clear and immediate as his own hand in front of him. He’d thought he’d forgotten. His breath turned shallow and thin. Dazed, he looked on as Jannah and her men raced past him, dropping into the hatch without hesitation.

“Finn!” came Jannah’s voice. “Finn, come down here!”

Finn snapped to attention, unsure how long he’d been standing there, staring. He looked down into the darkness of the hatch and stepped closer. Stepped a little closer. He imagined Poe beside him, right behind him, encouraging him onward.

For some reason, in that moment, he had a visceral memory of the first time he met Poe. He could picture the way Poe had nodded at him, smile creeping over his face, eyebrow arched, and said: “We’re gonna do this.” _We’re gonna do this_. From that moment on, Finn hadn’t had a doubt.

The memory steadied him somehow, and he clutched gratefully at it with both hands. He crouched and dropped down the hatch, heart pounding.

“Oh my god, it’s _Finn_ ,” one of the kids said, a boy who looked to be about seven.

“ _They know you_ ,” Jannah said, clearly amused.

“He’s the _General of the Resistance_ ,” another awed voice said.

“Him and Poe Dameron!”

Finn blinked. The one thing he hadn’t been prepared for was them acting like normal children.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said awkwardly, surveying the scene. The shaft of light from above and the flash lights and lanterns of Jannah’s people were the only reason they could see a thing. The hatch opening must have been like sunrise for these kids. Clumps of them were scattered along a long, dark room. There must have been hundreds. The brave ones had crept closer to Finn and Jannah. Jannah’s men were milling around, inspecting the children for injuries, soothing those that were still crying. Most of the kids had known the Resistance by sight, but the younger ones didn’t completely understand yet. For now, for those who realized they were being rescued, the relief was enough to keep them calm. Later—Finn dreaded to think of later.

“You guys okay?” he asked. Grave, awed faces blinked back at him. He radioed for more men to come down. “Let’s get you all home.”

The kids began to crowd around Finn where he stood under the hatch. A shadow passed over him and he looked up to see one of his men installing a ladder and rolling it down. A whole squad of Resistance fighters came down, then, ready for their orders.

“Injured and littlest kids first,” Finn said, realizing everyone was waiting for him to speak. Only one of their ships—the biggest, the one they’d boarded from—had a full medical suite, but even that wouldn’t be big enough for all these children. “Get them to the med bay. The rest can go in the canteen. Get them food and water.”

Finn watched out of the side of his eye as a grimy little boy took the hand of a smaller girl next to him, a defiant look on his face.

“Keep siblings together,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” his men said, already starting their work.

Finn watched as the children were carried up, one by one, some on the back of their rescuer, some cradled in one arm while the other scaled the ladder. The sheer scale of their relief seemed to have exhausted the children, and they slumped in the arms of whatever adult had them. Finn helped the older, uninjured children up the ladder when the high priority kids were all evacuated. Some of them were shaking, well aware of what they had escaped, shock setting in. Finn stayed with them the whole time, down there in the twilight, even when everyone else had gone up the ladder to help the other kids. Pretty soon, only the grimy-looking boy and his sister remained.

The boy, still holding his sister’s hand, began shaking so hard that he couldn’t even grasp the ladder. His pale, serious face remained completely still as his body vibrated with shock. The little girl looked up at him with big eyes.

Finn knelt down next to the kid.

“You’re in shock,” he said gently, trying to recall the way Poe had spoken to him when he’d had a panic attack that first night. “You’re okay, though. You’re going home. You’re going to be just fine. Okay?”

“O-okay,” the boy said, blinking.

“Why don’t you get on my back, and I’ll carry your sister up. Would that be good?” Finn asked, careful not to do anything until he got the boy’s approval. Thankfully, Finn had worn a flightsuit with a harness that went across his chest, for holding blaster cartridges, which the boy could hold onto so he wouldn’t choke him as they climbed.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be good,” the boy said, not moving. His eyes were far away. “My mom and dad are probably so worried about us.”

“I bet,” Finn said, inching a bit closer. His eyes were burning, and he was praying that he wouldn’t start crying in front of these poor kids. “I bet they are. They’ll be so relieved when you get home.”

“Yeah,” the boy said weakly.

He must have been about eight. About the age had been when Finn had been taken.

What Finn would have done to have had this moment. To have been rescued.

He gently touched the boy’s shoulder. He startled a bit, but nodded. He handed his sister over to Finn.

“It’s okay, Rina, he’s taking us to mom and dad,” the boy said, sounding exhausted. He began to walk around to Finn’s back.

“Mama! Papa!” the little girl cried, happily going to Finn’s outstretched hands.

Finn felt the boy’s small arms go around his neck. Had he been that small, when he’d been taken? It didn’t seem possible.

“You must miss your parents,” Finn said shakily, moving the boy’s hands to the harness. They were steady, now, relieved. “Hold on tight.”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “Yeah, we do.”

“Wrap your legs around.”

Finn must have missed his parents, he reflected. He must have missed their faces, their voices, their smell. He must have remembered them, then.

Satisfied that the boy’s grip was tight enough, Finn gathered the little girl—Rina—in his arms. He shifted her to one arm. She was such a small thing. She would certainly have forgotten her parents in time, if she’d been taken.

“What’s your name?” Finn asked the boy, starting the slow process of climbing the ladder. The kid was heavy, and Finn only had the one hand to go up. He had to lean all his weight forward whenever he moved it.

“I’m Clem,” he said.

“I’m Finn,” Finn said.

“I heard you and Rey and Poe Dameron saved the galaxy,” the boy said.

“Yeah,” Finn said, panting now. “Yeah, I guess we did. We had a lot of help, though.”

They climbed a few rungs in silence, slowly making their way towards the light.

“Poe Dameron is my hero,” the boy said. “I have a poster of him in my room.”

Finn laughed. He couldn’t wait to tell Poe when he got back. He would love it.

“He’s my hero, too,” Finn said. They were nearly at the top.

Finn deposited the girl onto the hold’s floor while he finished climbing out of the hatch. He blinked, adjusting to the brightness as he emerged from the dark hold. His arms shook minutely as he hoisted himself up and out. It felt like he was escaping all over again, and something in him slumped in relief now that he was no longer in the hold. Catching his breath, Finn sat next to her on the floor while the boy climbed off his back. After a moment, he stood, and the girl immediately made grabby hands up at him. He scooped her up, grabbed the boy’s hand, and headed back towards the ship.

All the Troopers were either unconscious, or tied up. Jannah’s men were busy disabling the ship so they wouldn’t be followed.

Finn led the kids to the canteen on the main ship, where cookies and milk were being handed out. Rina was chomping on hers happily, while her brother was merely nibbling at the edges of his, eyes wary. His hand held tightly onto Finn’s. They sat together on the floor, Rina curled up on Finn’s lap, Clem leaning into his side. Finn let his head fall back onto the wall, exhausted and relieved.

“We’re going home now,” Finn said quietly. “We’ll be home soon.”

***

Finn startled awake as the ship landed. Blearily, he tried to move, but was weighed down by Rina, sleeping soundly on his lap. He looked over at Clem, who was sleeping with his head resting on his arm. A tide of some unnamable emotion rose in him: some bittersweet combination of gratitude, despair, anger. It felt like acid scouring his insides, like he’d been scraped raw by the sheer force of holding all that inside him. Suddenly, he wished terribly for someone to talk to.

“Are we home?” he heard Clem, who must have woken up, ask.

His face looked so wide-open and grave. Finn knew, in that moment, that he would gladly die for these children. The speed and ferocity with which he’d developed these protective instincts startled him. It made him wonder how anyone would hurt a child, how anyone had hurt _him_ when he had been so small.

“Yeah,” Finn said shakily. “Finally. We’re home, finally.”

Lost in a daze, holding Rina in one arm, holding Clem’s hand with the other, he walked off the ship into the crowd of desperate, anxious parents. A whole crowd of them, wringing hands, sobbing, grasping at returned children. Finn felt overwhelmed, watching all the joy and anxiety and relief. He kept on spinning around, looking for someone, though he hardly knew who.

“Mama!” Rina shrieked. She began to squirm uncontrollably in his arms. “Papa!”

A short, harried looking brunette woman and a tall, gangly man in spectacles ran up to him. Finn silently handed an exuberant Rina to her mother, who was laughing and crying at the same time, clutching at her child like a lifeline. The man fell to his knees, sobbing, and embraced Clem. Tears scalded behind Finn’s eyes as he watched the scene unfold, two desperate parents reunited with their children. The mother sank to the ground, too, and enfolded Clem and her husband in her frantic embrace.

It hit Finn, then: the truth of things. He would never get that moment. He had missed his chance to be saved. So obvious, and yet he had always hoped. His childhood had been taken from him, and would never be returned. The life he might have had was lost, now, and lost for good. The kid he’d been had ceased to exist the moment he’d been handed that first blaster, and his chest felt like it was being cleaved in two as he saw this clearly for the first time. Stunned with grief, he surveyed the wreckage that had been made of his life. A sob rose in his throat, a painful pressure he tried to swallow around, but it got stuck there, and he continued to cry silently. It was done. It was gone.

“Thank you,” a voice said—the mother. Finn blinked, unsure when she had turned her attention to him. “Thank you, thank you so much, you brought our children back to us.” She was babbling, lost in her gratitude and relief.

“Have dinner with us,” the husband was saying. “Please. Let us thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, wiping his tears away, “I’m sorry, I have to—I have to go home now.”

The parents seemed to recognize him, then, and nodded, soft, sad expressions on their faces. Finn walked back to the ship, lost, tears silently running down his cheeks.

Jannah found him first, and hugged him fiercely. She was crying, too.

“It’s okay,” she whispered through tears. “Let it hurt. Let it hurt.”

“All this time,” he said, “all this time, I thought I could undo it somehow.”

“I know,” she said, “I know.”

He pulled away, feeling like someone who had been near an explosion and now could only hear a hollow ringing noise. His unsteady feet lead him to the Falcon, where he locked himself into the bathroom and sank to the ground. He put his head on his knees and began to sob like a child.

He cried for all that been taken from him, for the mother and father and family he had been robbed of, for the years he could never get back, for the healthy, happy young man he didn’t get to become. He mourned for the life he might have lived. A life that had been cut off, mid-arc, turned stunted and strange.

He had been so wrong. He’d been afraid that he’d look at those children and see himself, but he _hadn’t_ been one of those children. _They’d_ been saved in time. They hadn’t had their identities, their memories, their past and future, their _hope_ stripped away yet. They hadn’t yet been slowly ground down to indistinguishable cogs, blank-eyed and interchangeable. They still remembered their families enough to long for them.

The pain of this sudden, sharp truth felt like someone dragging a jagged piece of glass around his insides. He clawed at it uselessly as he sobbed on the cold tile of the Falcon’s tiny bathroom. He couldn’t breathe, it hurt so much.

He would never be saved. He would never go home. The relief those children had felt, that feeling of the earth shifting back into place: it would never be his. _Who would I be now_ , he wondered? _How much pain would I have been spared?_ The questions were endless, and could never be answered. It was gone. It was done.

He had climbed once more out of that pit, but it didn’t feel like a victory this time. This time it felt like a hollowed-out lack. Like a droid stripped for parts. _Let it hurt_ , Jannah had said, but he wasn’t sure he could survive this pain.

He wanted to go home. He wanted Poe.

“I want Poe,” he said to himself. “I want Poe, I want Poe, I want Poe.”

His heart throbbed with the simple, unexpected longing. He wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk about you but I cried


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god here we go - last chapter! I have it all written & edited, so I figured I'd just post the last 2 at once. I'm terrified. I hope you guys like it!!!  
> Thanks to everyone who has read, & especially to my peeps who have commented, kudoed, subscribed, bookmarked. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see readers' responses to my writing!

Finn smiled softly at the sight of his friend, pacing along the tarmac, as he landed the Falcon. He finally understood the phrase ‘a sight for sore eyes.’ He wanted to gaze at Poe, just drink him in until the world righted itself under his feet.

His eyes ached from crying so much. He hugged Jannah one last time, silent and exhausted, and disembarked.

Poe was already walking toward him with a purposeful stride, his eyes full of concern. Finn all but ran to meet him, feeling like something within him was about to boil over.

“Buddy!” Poe said.

“Poe,” Finn managed to choke out, catching his friend in a tight embrace. His lips felt numb, and he buried his head in Poe’s shoulder. Poe’s hand traveled to the back of his head, warm and touching him softly. Finn hugged him more tightly, and he could feel Poe’s surprise.

“You okay?” Poe asked. “You don’t seem okay.”

Finn shook his head, still on Poe’s shoulder.

“No,” he said miserably, tears welling up. He couldn’t seem to stop crying. “No, I’m—” he tried, choking on a sob.

“It’s okay,” Poe soothed, rubbing Finn’s back in light circles. “You’re okay. You’re home now. You’re okay.”

Finn let himself have one or two more sobs, then tried to gather himself. He attempted to take some deep breaths. He was so relieved to be home, he felt like he might pass out.

“There you go, just like that, breathe,” Poe said gently. “Good.”

Finn drew back, wiping at his eyes, and Poe let him.

“Sorry,” Finn said. “It was just—a hard mission.”

Poe nodded, a soft, understanding smile on his face.

Rey and Rose ran to Finn, then, and hugged him, asking him if he was okay and telling him to get some rest. Finn was still crying a little bit, unable to stop, but he felt much calmer than before. He answered their questions wearily, and nodded gratefully at their promises to check on him later. They left in a flurry of well wishes.

“I have an idea,” Poe said, slinging his arm around Finn’s shoulder. “Follow me.”

***

Finn had been soaking in the lavender-scented bath that Poe had painstakingly prepared for him—testing the water, selecting bath oil from his own personal collection—for nearly a half an hour, talking quietly to his friend, who was sitting outside the tub, his back against the rim. For some reason, he found himself avoiding the topic he knew he should be talking about, offering inane observations about the somnolent properties of lavender and asking questions about what Poe had done while he was gone. He stared at his knees with sore eyes as they talked softly.

The bath water was turning cold. Finn didn’t want to break the spell, but another, competing desire was rising like floodwater in his chest. He wanted—he wanted to tell Poe what had happened.

He didn’t know where to begin, so he said, “One of the kids said he had a poster of you in his room.” He continued to stare at his knees, unseeing. Poe, in Finn’s peripheral vision, stayed carefully still, listening. “His name was Clem.”

“Good taste,” Poe offered gently.

Finn’s answering smile was a twitch more than anything else. Tears were gathering in his eyes, and he hugged his knees closer.

“Yeah,” Finn answered, feeling bruised as he spoke. “I carried him on my back out of the hold. Him and his sister.”

“Jesus,” Poe breathed.

“I handed his sister over to their mother, and I thought, _My mother never got this moment_.” The words somehow kept coming, even though they felt like acid in his mouth, as if the tight pressure gathering in his chest was forcing them out. Finn kept on speaking, numb, his voice oddly calm. “My mother never got any moment, probably. They probably killed her when they took me.”

Poe was quiet, and still, his back ramrod straight against the bath. Finn was glad Poe wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure he would have gotten it out, otherwise.

“I’m so,” he continued, voice finally breaking, the wave finally crashing, “I’m so _angry_.” Hot tears began to stream down his face. “They took _everything_ from me. They hurt me, and then made me think there was something wrong with _me_ when I reacted.”

Poe’s head bowed, and Finn knew he was crying. But Finn couldn’t stop talking, because the pressure was finally letting up on his chest. It felt like poison was being purged from his body, after rotting him from the inside out all these years.

“Why couldn’t—why couldn’t _I_ have been saved?” he bit out. Something in him deflated. “Why wasn’t I saved?” he asked again, quietly.

He felt rubbed raw, unable to make things click inside his brain. Why couldn’t he make sense of this? Why wasn’t there some logic to this? He was silent for a long while as he let things stew. The whole time, Poe simply sat, hunched, quiet, beside the bath.

Finn wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed. He looked toward Poe with tired eyes. When he spoke it was suddenly, as if he wasn’t even aware of the words coming out of his mouth.

“I thought if I just—if I just ignored it and pretended it never happened, it would go away,” he said. “I thought if I were able to fool everyone into thinking I was normal, I would be.”

He didn’t want to do that anymore. It was so lonely, thinking there was something wrong with you. He didn’t want to hide anymore. All it really did was make the differences between himself and everyone else even more glaring, and to open up even more distance.

“But I don’t want to pretend anymore, not with you.”

Poe stiffened, and Finn wasn’t sure what it meant.

“You don’t have to,” Poe said quietly. “You never had to.”

“I’ve killed people,” Finn said suddenly. “Probably people in the Resistance. Maybe friends of yours.”

Poe laughed bitterly, and ducked his head. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked. “You think I _care_?”

Finn stared at the back of Poe’s head incredulously. “How could you not care?”

“Finn, you were _brainwashed_. We’re well aware of the methods used by the First Order to traumatize its members,” Poe said, as if he were barely restraining a ‘ _duh’_. “Why are you trying to shock me with that?”

“You—you _are_?” Finn asked. This information was rewriting his entire conception of what Poe knew about his childhood, what the entire Resistance knew. If they already—if they already _knew_ —

“Of course we _know_ , Finn. We have entire branches dedicated to First Order intelligence. Jesus. This whole time, you thought I’d, what, be angry with you if I ever found out?”

“Well. Ye—yeah.”

Poe scoffed impatiently. “You’re lucky I care so much about your modesty, or else I’d turn around and smack you,” he said.

Finn simply blinked, entirely taken aback. He was flooded with relief and awe and—a feeling of acceptance enfolding him like a physical embrace. They knew, and they didn’t care. They had counted every sin, they had seen all that been done to him, and they had accepted him anyway. They had made him a _general_. The enormity, the seismic reverberation, of this realization made his mind stall uncomprehendingly.

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

His secret had been spoken, and, just like that, it seemed to lose all the power it had had over him. Finn felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. What he’d thought was a terrible secret, his dark and awful past, had suddenly been thrust from the shadows, and, in the light of day, Finn found it wasn’t so bad as he’d thought. If Poe could stand to look at it, surely he could too. 

Poe sighed. “You think I would hold your past against you?” he said. “If anything, I’m—I’m amazed you managed to resist them at all. I doubt I would’ve.” He paused, and sighed. “I know—I know that if you hadn’t been taken by them, we may never have defeated the First Order, and I probably would never have met you, but still, for all—for _all that_ —I still wish there had been someone to rescue _you_.”

Finn looked over at him, so fond and soft he hardly knew what to do with himself. He prayed that Poe wouldn’t look at him, for if he looked, he would surely—he would surely know—

Finn’s mind stopped short. Surely know _what_?

He belatedly realized that Poe had been speaking, quietly, intimately, while he’d been thinking, and he forced himself to pay attention. 

“…so that’s why—me and Rey talked about this—that’s why we’d like to make a new branch of the Resistance, devoted solely to finding and de-programming former Troopers, and preventing recruitment in the future.”

Finn blinked. He felt a warmth wash over him, though the bath water had long gone cold, like he had just stepped into the sun after a long, cold winter. “You—what?” he asked, haltingly.

Poe repeated himself, now sounding wary, unsure what Finn’s reaction meant.

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion, like Finn had plunged himself underwater and was staring up at the world on land in dumb wonder.

“That’s…that’s amazing,” Finn said stupidly, unable to process what he was feeling. “That’s wonderful.”

“I meant it when I said I never wanted anyone else to go through what you had to go through.”

Finn blinked again, and was surprised as he felt tears rolling down his face. He was—he was _crying_ , but the tears felt clearer, and softer. He didn’t understand what this feeling was, like a bubble of warmth expanding in his chest.

Poe took a peek at Finn’s face, Finn supposed, to check his reaction, and did a double-take at what he saw.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t—” Finn said, sniffling a bit, “I don’t know. That’s just—that’s so kind. You’re so kind.”

Poe blushed, and something in his expression—his eyes, maybe—flicked a light on in Finn’s brain. He blinked, and thought, _Oh. Oh. How could he have missed that?_

He was in love.

He was in love with Poe.

“Oh,” he said, out loud, staring at his friend. He blinked.

Poe looked at him again, with queer eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Finn said slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I think Rey was right,” Poe said, handing Finn his towel and standing up, “you need some sleep.” He turned away. “I’m not looking.”

Still in a daze, Finn mechanically stood up and dried himself off before slinging the towel around his hips. He followed Poe out into his room and put his dressing gown on over the towel, and then slid the towel off. He moved in a stupor, unsure where to place this new and terrifying development, feeling as if he were existing in some kind of unreality.

He—loved Poe. Finn was in love with Poe. 

“I’m happy you’re okay,” Poe said quietly.

“Thanks,” Finn said, a beat too late, gazing at him with what he was sure was a dumb expression. “Maybe next mission—you could come with me?”

Poe’s eyes widened, and he smiled. “Really?”

Finn nodded, climbing into his bed.

“I would like that,” Poe said.

“Me too,” Finn said, suddenly exhausted. The day was finally catching up with him, and he welcomed a respite. There would be time tomorrow. “Me too.”

The last thing he heard was the door shutting softly behind Poe, before a soft, warm sleep enveloped him.

***

Poe exhaled heavily as he exited Finn’s room, rubbing at his tear-stained cheeks. He walked to his own bunk to find Rey waiting outside it, and he smiled sadly at seeing her anxious expression.

“How is he?” she asked, eyes huge.

“As good as he can be, I guess,” Poe said. “He’s sleeping now.”

“I’m so worried about him,” she said.

“He’s going through a lot,” he said. “He’ll need us both, I think. Everyone. Seeing those kids has brought a lot of stuff up, I think.”

Rey peered at him strangely. “Can I—can I talk to you a minute? Inside?”

Poe frowned, confused, but nodded. They both went inside. He was too tired to even guess at what she wanted to talk about. Gesturing to his bed vaguely—the only seat in the place—he retrieved a bottle of Corellian rum from his alcohol stash and poured himself a glass.

“Want some?” he asked Rey.

She shook her head silently.

“I,” she began, hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”

Too tired to emotionally react, he simply took a sip of his drink and asked, “How’s that?”

“When Finn first told me about your—sex thing,” she said, and Poe was unsurprised Finn had talked to her about it, “I was afraid he was going to get hurt.”

Poe’s eyebrows knit together. She hadn’t been totally wrong. Finn had gotten hurt, even though they’d now worked things out.

“I thought you might try to take advantage of him,” she said, looking down, ashamed. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking straight. I was too wrapped up in—” She shut her eyes briefly. “Too wrapped up in my own stuff. I see now, with how you are with him, with the new special branch, how much he means to you. I’m sorry.”

Oh. Poe was a little taken aback, but not entirely surprised at the comparison she was drawing between herself and Finn, and himself and Kylo Ren. He’d never been told the exact details of what when down between Rey and Leia’s son, and he’d never asked, figuring that if Rey wanted to share, she’d share, but he could see the parallels. One, fresh-faced and traumatized, the other, older and more experienced. He supposed that, on the face of things, it could look bad. He liked to think, though, that he wasn’t predatory and manipulative in the way he knew Kylo Ren was.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, looking at his friend with concern. He continued, in a quiet voice, “I can’t say I know exactly what he did to you, but I know enough about him to understand where you’re coming from.”

A flash of some complicated emotion—rage, maybe, or guilt—came over her face before she schooled it back to impassivity. “He tortured you.”

Poe nodded simply, a small smile quirking his lips. It was a fact. He looked at her, watchful, unsure where she was going with this. “No one’s fault but his,” he said. “He got inside my mind, and I’m sure he got inside yours, too.”

“I was such an easy target,” Rey said ruefully. “And that’s—that’s why I was worried about Finn. You’re older, more experienced—and he can be so naïve sometimes. He didn’t even realize he was gay until Rose kissed him.”

“I know,” Poe said.

Rey was quiet a moment, clearly thinking.

“I see, now, that I was wrong.” She paused, and looked up at him with bright eyes. “You love him, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

Poe nodded silently. There was no use hiding. Even if he tried, he was sure she’d see through it.

“And you haven’t told him?”

He shook his head, gripping his drink more tightly.

Rey nodded, as if this fact had confirmed something for her.

“He told me he loved me. Or, you know, whatever passes as love for him. And he made sure I knew that he was the only one who ever would,” she said quietly, staring unseeing in front of her.

Poe watched her carefully, unwilling to break the trance she seemed to be in. _That’s not true_ , he could say, but he was sure she already knew that. He was sure that Finn had already told her so.

“Part of me almost wishes he hadn’t died for me, you know?” she said, a hard line in her voice despite its low volume. “He gets to be the big hero, like he never tortured you, like he isn’t responsible for how Finn grew up, like he never—like he never fucked with my mind the way he did.” She looked down, her expression pained. “He made me feel like, if I could just _love_ him, he would spare the galaxy and I know—I _know_ —that wouldn’t have really happened—and yet there were moments when he nearly convinced me, too.” Her gaze shifted to Poe, wide-open and clear. “That was a betrayal of all you and Finn and everyone else went through. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Poe repeated gently, holding his hands out, palms upturned. “Listen to me, Rey. Really listen. _That man was a black hole_. You could have loved him until you had nothing left, and he would still take and take and take. Some people are like that.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “I know that, now.”

“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” Poe said. “You know what Leia said whenever she talked about him?” Rey looked at him with big eyes. “She said, no matter how much or how fiercely you love someone, you can’t,” he stumbled, “it can’t heal them.”

Rey smiled wryly. “She always knew just what to say, didn’t she?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. She did. I wish she was here.”

“Well,” she said, a sly smile creeping across her elfin face, “I think you’re filling her role pretty admirably.”

Poe was taken aback. He blinked. “You—you do?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, clearly amused. “Look at the way you just stayed with Finn when he needed you. Look at the conversation we just had. Without even trying, you said exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Oh,” Poe said dumbly. He frowned. “I did?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes. She then smiled fondly, and hopped off Poe’s bed. “Thanks, General.”

Poe watched, dumbstruck, as she left his room, a warm glow building in his chest. For the first time, he didn’t feel like Leia’s shabby second-best replacement. _Fucking Leia_ , he thought, smiling.

***

“I’m going up in the Falcon. You want to come?” Finn asked Poe.

Poe looked at him for a moment and said, “You need a pilot.”

Finn tried terribly not to smile, but failed. “I need a pilot,” he confirmed.

“Where to this time?”

This was not the first time, in the months following the rescue, that Finn had gone for a long, aimless flight on the Falcon. Nor was it the first time he had gone with Poe. There were some days he wanted to go alone, to stare into the stars and let the endless dark of the galaxy wash over him. Some days he feared, for some obscure unscientific reason, that the force of the emptiness and stillness and darkness outside would crush his little spaceship, and him along with it. Those were the days he asked Poe to come with him.

They would fly out to some ass-end of space, set the controls to auto-pilot, and get tipsy on red wine like two middle-aged aunties. Finn would tell Poe about his childhood, everything from the stupid, vaguely eugenic rom-coms to the corporal punishments to the red handprint on his white helmet. Then they would switch to hard liquor and snuggle on the couch until they fell asleep. There were some things he said that surprised even himself, things that he had only half-remembered, or things that had been stowed away somewhere deep inside him. Frequently he found he would talk himself into the answer he’d been looking for, Poe a kind, gentle presence beside him as he floundered in his past.

It felt good to tell Poe about his life, even when it was painful in the moment. The first night he did it, the first time he’d told anyone _everything_ , he’d just vomited out the words, though it only seemed to make him sicker and sicker the more he said. After, though, he’d felt a bit better. Like he’d purged the poison. He could remember every moment with bruising clarity, now that he’d began thinking about it again. It had previously only been feelings, brief snapshots of, perhaps, the taste of metallic blood in his mouth, that he’d remembered; now, the entirety of his experience with the First Order seemed to come flooding back. A whole catalogue of trauma, carefully recorded and filed, had been quietly gathering dust in his brain. Finn didn’t think he could have touched it without Poe by his side. It made a difference, having someone, an outsider, there to say, _That was wrong. What they did to you was wrong. It’s not your fault._ Sharing made things seem so much less frightening, so much less shameful.

Strangely enough, the one thing that he’d been terrified of, all this time, the one thing he’d been sure would preclude any real chance at a life, turned out to be the one thing that could give him any peace. Honesty. Frank and brutal and unsparing. He finally felt as though he could really _belong_ somewhere, now that Poe knew everything, and still accepted him. Before he’d been so terrified, so ashamed of his past, that he’d internalized his idea that he was defective. This _thing_ that he’d thought had attached itself to his life like a bloodsucking monster—his worst moments, his most awful sins—was actually, when held up to the light, nowhere near as terrifying as he’d imagined. It was surreal to learn that, actually, people loved him just as he was.

Finn was slowly learning to swim in waters over his head. Some days were very bad. Other days were wonderful. Seeing the kids had made him realize just how far he’d come, how he really _had_ escaped, and never had to return again, and that made him feel better about patching himself up in his own time. He’d gotten this far already, hadn’t he?

The rescue missions continued, and Poe was by his side for them. Having someone to face down the past, to prove that he was no longer the helpless, orphaned child at the mercy of others, made the missions feel constructive, instead of destructive. It felt good to be helping the kids, and seeing Poe with them was a bonus. He seemed to be a natural at dealing with children, and they worshipped him. It made Finn have all kinds of dreamy thoughts of babies and families and domestic life, thoughts he tried not to examine too closely.

Every child they saved felt, to Finn, like another piece of his soul had been healed, like a sin had been expunged from his record. It still hurt to see them, their grave little faces, but the moment they were returned to their parents made everything worth it. He had been that child, the taken child, the hurt child, for a brief time, but he wasn’t anymore. Now, he _saved_ children like him, returned them to their parents before they could be damaged like he had been. The symbolism of it felt good. He ate a lot of dinners with grateful parents, and got frequent updates from Rina and Clem. They sent drawings of him hoisting them up the ladder.

Everyone in the Resistance was supportive, and there were always volunteers to be had for rescues. People reached out to Finn, to tell him how strong he was, and how sorry they were that he had gone through what he did, and that they would never have been brave enough to leave. He wondered how he had ever feared that they would turn on him. The special new branch was created, and Jannah was at its head. They’d even begun to launch deprogramming efforts, developed by all the former Troopers in the Resistance, including Finn. He had been surprised at the grim satisfaction he’d felt when he’d realized that all the pain he’d experienced might actually be of use to him, and to others. He didn’t believe in fate or anything like that, he didn’t think he’d been placed where he’d been placed in order to help people, but he was glad that somebody could benefit from what he’d learned. They wouldn’t have to hack their way forward through the jungle, lost and adrift, like he’d had to.

It took him a long time, many hours of thinking and talking with Rey and Jannah and Poe, and it was still an ongoing process. Perhaps it would always be. He didn’t know. But the truth was this: he was not normal, and never would be. To pretend otherwise was just no good. He’d always be a bit anxious, a bit neurotic, a bit angry, saddled with a stifled and terror-filled upbringing. He had always suspected this. But now, he felt that he could be at peace with it. “Look at your feet,” Poe had said one night. “All you can do is start where you are.” And so Finn had tried to. The damage had been done, and couldn’t be undone. He’d been so afraid of getting a scar, he hadn’t wanted anything to heal.

 _Finn is your real name_ , Poe had said, and he had been right. Not because Finn had been reborn, fresh and unharmed, into his new life, but because he had taken the rubble they’d made of his life, of his identity, and had built, and built painstakingly, with his own bare hands, one that he could be proud of. He was more than what they had made of him, more than FN-2187, and he had proven that the day he escaped. _That_ was who he really was.

“Where do you want to go?” Finn asked in reply.

“Hmm,” Poe said. “Why don’t we just fly a bit, see where it takes us?”

Finn nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t really know what these long trips with Poe meant, during which they woke up, limbs intertwined, on the couch of the Falcon after a long night of confessing intimate secrets to each other. He was learning so much about Poe: his long career with the Resistance, his parents, his home planet. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what he was like as a child, whether he was as gregarious as he was now, or whether he was dark-eyed and shy. He wanted to understand where he came from, and what had shaped him into who he was now. He wanted to know every disappointment, every mistake, every success, every triumph.

His love for Poe wasn’t _growing,_ not exactly, but unfolding, somehow. Revealing a shape and depth he hadn’t guessed at. It had somehow extended its root system into every facet of Finn’s life, without Finn noticing. He let himself be enveloped in it, mainly because he didn’t know how to do otherwise. He wondered, sometimes, when exactly it had begun, because he remembered feeling shades of this warm devotion in the past, but hadn’t at the time been able to recognize them for what they were. In all the movies he’d ever watched, it had been love at first sight: two sets of eyes meeting across a crowded room. Falling in love, Finn had thought, was meant to be the easy part. But, of course, Finn being Finn, he’d had to go his own way.

It was so different to what he’d been taught love was. There was none of the aggression, none of the extreme jealousy and possessiveness, none of the manipulation and fear that he’d thought was part and parcel with love. The First Order had warped his idea of it into something entirely unrecognizable. He’d thought it would be painful, and it kind of was, but it was never Poe who was hurting him. Poe never belittled him, or shut him out, or shamed him, like the heroes in First Order films did to their loved ones. Poe was only ever kind, and gentle.

And he was just so _beautiful_. Finn loved the way he laughed, and the soft warmth of his eyes, and the way he lightly touched the small of Finn’s back. He loved the way he made him feel, like it was the two of them in a foxhole together, safe and warm and loved. Poe was—Poe was _home_ , and he was _belonging_ , after a life utterly bereft of both.

He wanted constantly to be touching Poe, softly and gently, to be stroking his hair or placing his hand over Poe’s. He frequently found flimsy excuses to do so. The sex had stopped, by his own request, and Poe hadn’t mentioned it even once. This is not to say that Finn didn’t think about it, because, did he _ever_. He thought about it in the shower, a hand on his cock, pretending it was Poe behind him, his arms wrapped around his body; he thought about it as he continued his Force training with Rey, losing focus and dropping objects mid-arc; he thought about it when Poe touched him innocently, and felt vaguely guilty afterwards. He wasn’t so foolish as to think reciprocation was guaranteed. In fact, he thought it rather unlikely. Poe had never seemed to want any kind of romantic relationship with anyone, at least in the years that Finn had known him, and he never mentioned anyone from his past, either. Finn didn’t care. He would happily accept friendship.

And that’s why, today, Finn wasn’t going up in the Falcon to stargaze, or to get drunk with his friend. What he wanted, instead, was something specific. One last time to touch Poe like he had no right to, before they settled back into friendship for good. Yes, he wanted more, but he also knew that what he and Poe had was something special, and he wouldn’t compromise it for anything. He thought that honestly, with no bitterness in his heart at all. It didn’t matter to him in what capacity Poe wanted him around, as long as he let him stay by his side. He was simply happy enough to have found Poe at all.

***

Poe’s conversation with Rey had stuck in his mind as particularly prescient in the months following the first rescue mission. Leia’s words, originally about her son, rang in his ears louder and louder the more he contemplated his and Finn’s now-defunct arrangement. Finn had confided in Poe his desire to be more normal, and ever since then, a pit had been growing in his stomach about his own role in affirming that particular neurosis, albeit in an attempt to heal his friend. Had their sexual relationship been yet another way that Finn was trying to become ‘normal’? Had Poe overlooked such an unhealthy coping mechanism because of his own selfish desire to be closer to Finn? He felt terribly guilty about seemingly validating Finn’s ideas about him not being normal, and, furthermore, enabling a very maladaptive route to _becoming_ normal. Part of Poe wanted to bring it up, and apologize, but the more time passed, the weirder he thought it would be.

He had been so _selfish,_ putting his own desire to be an agent of Finn’s healing, and his desire to be _closer_ to Finn in any way possible, above Finn’s own well-being. The thought actually made Poe feel vaguely nauseous. Fucking Finn might have made him feel more normal in the moment, but if Poe had actually wanted to help Finn heal, Poe should have let him work through it on his own. Let him find someone he liked, and begin something with them. Poe saw clearly now that he would have to let Finn go, so his sexuality could develop naturally. This artificial creation of an intimate relationship wasn’t healthy, and Poe should have stopped it long ago, should have stopped it before it began. Leia was laughing at him somewhere. Of course, _of course_ , even after death, she’d be the one with the wisdom he’d needed.

All he could do, he realized now, was be there for his friend. And _listen_. His heart may be aching to do more, but it wouldn’t be right. And Poe had discovered, actually, that the constant, steady warmth of being Finn’s confidant was far better than the boom-and-bust cycles of elation and despair that had characterized their empty sexual relationship. Those days when Finn took him up in the Falcon, Poe didn’t wake up in a morning-after pit that he’d slowly and painstakingly have to crawl out of. Instead, it made Poe feel valued, and useful, more than a good-time friend, more than a fuck. What they had was something deeper, and in the months since the rescue, it had become even more textured and real. Poe felt that they were somehow knitting themselves closer and closer with each passing day, and his heart fluttered whenever he thought about it. The fact that somebody was coming to him, trusting him with their heart, was a strange and warm and wonderful thing.

Their long talks were largely Finn processing his own emotions, using Poe as a sounding board, after which Poe had to extricate himself from Finn’s arms so he could cry quietly in the bathroom at all Finn had endured. Some days Finn was angry, raging at all that had been taken from him and all that had been done to him, and Poe got angry with him. Other days he was sad, and cried softly into Poe’s shoulders. Those days were the hardest. Poe offered advice where he could, though he was afraid it was usually little more than well-intentioned platitudes and words of validation and sympathy. He didn’t know what else he could do. He tried to take the pain from his friend, even if it meant he would have to absorb it himself and cry it out in the bathroom. He wished there was more that he could do. Still, Poe was glad that Finn felt safe enough in their relationship to confide in him, and was happy that he was finding his way through the labyrinth of healing.

Poe felt things changing, slowly but inexorably, and he was caught between apprehension and relief. The fact that the sexual component of his and Poe’s relationship seemed to be over was, in many ways, welcome. But Poe’s feelings about it were complicated, to say the least. It seemed to signal the quiet death of any future romance between the two of them, not that Poe had had much hope in that direction anyway, and seemed to land Poe precisely in the same stunted misery he’d been in before. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hide what he was feeling any more.

Maybe it was Finn’s own honesty, his raw and sometimes painful confessions to Poe in the darkness of outer space, that made him feel this way. Poe was so thankful, and so _proud_ , and he wanted to pay his friend back in kind. Maybe it was the memory of that awful night, crying into Finn’s shoulder, desperately wishing to be loved. He wanted to leave that in the past, to uncramp the horrible feeling of guilt and self-loathing that he’d felt in that moment. Maybe it was simply Poe’s possibly misguided idea that, once he got it off his chest, he could work through it and move on. Finn deserved that. Poe should work on that, if only for Finn’s sake.

Maybe—maybe it was the fact that he and Finn were closer than ever, and, with the boundary between their separate lives thinning and thinning, it was simply more difficult to keep his feelings to himself. Poe felt the urge to say something building in his chest like a balloon about to burst. And Finn’s behavior didn’t help things. In fact, while being completely understandable after revisiting a traumatic moment in his life, it frequently left Poe at a loss. For example, there was—and this was genuinely distressing—the inordinate amount of _touching_. Finn had always been kind of a touchy-feely guy: he hugged and high-fived a lot, especially with Poe. But this was different, and not just in terms of frequency and variation (sliding his thumb along the curve of Poe’s hand, playing footsie under the table, entangling their bodies as they sat on the couch watching a vid). There was a _warmth_ to these touches that was baffling, and, to Poe, almost scorching. It wasn’t Finn’s fault, he didn’t realize, but touching someone with that kind of tenderness _means_ something. You don’t just do that with anyone; you do that with a partner. That sort of touch, that casual sweet touch, was more painful to Poe than the entirety of their sexual catalog. It made his desire to confess that much stronger.

He planned to tell him as soon as Finn regained his equilibrium, if only to lessen the pressure tightening and tightening in his chest.

Now, in the Falcon, the impulse was reaching critical levels as he watched his friend mix margaritas in the tiny kitchen. Poe, lost in his thoughts, wondering if now would be a good time, wondering if Finn was ready, was completely unprepared for what Finn said next.

“Would you still be okay with fucking me?”

Poe startled back like he had been slapped.

“What?” he asked, completely taken off-guard. One more time: _What?_

“The last phase,” Finn explained patiently. “We haven’t finished yet.”

Poe blinked, trying to digest the phrase ‘the last phase’ without puking. He sat down heavily on the couch. In all his imaginings about what would come next in their relationship, Poe had _never_ thought those words would come out of Finn’s mouth. He’d thought, he’d been _certain_ , that Finn had moved past this having-sex-will-make-me-normal hang-up.

“I don’t,” he said slowly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Finn eyebrows drew together, and his lips pursed into a little hurt moue.

“Why not?” he asked.

The question prompted a near-violent reaction. He couldn’t do that again. He could not do that again. He was trying to move on. He was trying to heal. He was trying to help _Finn_ heal. It spilled out of Poe in a guilty, harried rush.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said, shutting his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry. I should never have said yes, or encouraged it.”

“What?” Finn said, clearly taken aback by Poe’s reaction. He looked hurt, and confused, and Poe wanted to die.

“I–I should have told you that it was okay to go at your own pace, to just let things unfold naturally,” he said, desperate to explain. His palms were facing up in supplication. “Instead, I confirmed your idea that there is something wrong with you, and Finn—” he paused, catching Finn’s eye, “—Finn, there is _nothing wrong with you_. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like there was.”

Finn was blinking, trying to catch up. “You didn’t—you never did,” he sputtered, finally. “You were just being a good friend.”

Poe laughed, then, a little ruefully.

“No,” he said, “No, I wasn’t.”

It seemed as if, suddenly, he were racing toward something inevitable, and unstoppable. All those nights of longing, all those touches that had passed between them, meaningless, all the things that Finn had confessed to Poe: they seemed to crystallize into something hard and cold that lodged itself in Poe’s throat, a product of guilt and longing and affection gone unspoken too long. It was time.

He felt like he was looking over the side of a cliff, the wind swirling around him, chanting _Tell him, tell him, tell him_. The crescendo rose in his ears again, and he knew this time he would not be able to escape it. The truth was demanding it be spoken. There was the exhilarating and terrifying call of free-fall to it. Poe could feel himself taking that step forward almost without the conscious permission of his brain. He stepped forward, as if into the light, telling himself that it would finally, finally be done.

Blood thumping loudly in his ears, he almost couldn’t hear himself as he said, “I wasn’t being a good friend.” Poe felt like he was going to be sick. He looked down, unable to face Finn for what he was about to say. “I don’t want to be friends, Finn,” he said lowly.

Finn staggered back like he’d been punched. “ _What_? What are you—”

“ _Finn_ ,” Poe interrupted, voice tight. “I love you, Finn.”

It was a bizarre feeling, having jumped off that cliff, feeling himself sailing, hurtling, down. The decision had been taken, and for a moment, Poe felt the ground rushing up to meet him with a grim kind of satisfaction. Poe looked up, and Finn’s face was doing something complicated.

“I love, too, buddy,” Finn said, throwaway, looking like he was on the verge of tears, “What are you—what do you—”

Poe grimaced, tears threatening. _In for a penny_ , he thought, with a touch of fatalism. It was too late now. He had spoken his secret.

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, voice hard-edged and desperate. “I _love_ you. I’m in love with you.” The sheer relief of finally having said it made Poe feel slightly dizzy. He wanted to say it again and again, to shout it from the rooftops, because it didn’t matter anymore. He smiled sheepishly at the stunned expression on Finn’s face. “God, I fucked this up so much, didn’t I? Sorry. I love you. Sorry.”

Finn looked like he’d just been slapped, but Poe was too busy free-falling to really consider what might come next. He was glad that whatever it would be, it was in Finn’s hands.

Poe nodded silently, trying to keep his face blank.

“Since when?” Finn asked, voice hoarse.

Poe exhaled in a whoosh, and shook his head. “Second I saw you? I don’t know. Forever.”

He waited patiently as Finn processed this, feeling like the floor might drop out from under his feet at any moment. The come-down was on its way. Something in Finn’s face, a quiet wonder, made him tentatively hopeful, but he quashed it viciously.

Poe’s hands began to shake and he pressed them together so Finn wouldn’t see.

“So that—that whole time,” Finn tried weakly, clearly still stunned. “I had no idea. I never imagined—”

The couch seemed to be undulating under Poe. He still wasn’t sure if Finn’s reaction was negative or not. Would he be angry? Disgusted? Betrayed?

Something seemed to dawn on Finn, then. “Oh, Poe…” he said sadly. “When you were crying—?”

Poe’s face twitched into a pained grin. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “It was—it was meaningless—and that—hurt.”

Finn rushed to his side and knelt in front of him, looking pained. “I’m so sorry, Poe. I’m so sorry,” he said, “If I had known how you felt, I never—” He placed his hands on Poe’s thigh in a gesture that was almost beseeching. “But you have to know, it was never, _never_ meaningless for me. You—from the day I met you, you showed me that there was a different way. You opened doors that I never even knew existed for someone like me.”

Poe didn’t understand what he was saying. What door had he opened? The door to having sex with people who weren’t Poe? He tried to keep his face from crumpling, but, apparently, he failed, because Finn winced.

“I’m sorry, I’m saying everything wrong—what I mean is that I was so amazed and so grateful and I felt so close to you. It was so much more than you being a warm body, it was you being _you_. You were so patient with me, and so kind. You were always in my corner, even when I asked you this ridiculous thing—even—even when you were suffering.” His voice faltered, and he paused. “Why did you—why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Poe swallowed, and looked down. “I’d rather be just friends than lose you.” _I hadn’t known it would go this far_. _I couldn’t stand to let you go._ All his words felt like too much, and not enough.

“You wouldn’t have lost me—If I had known how you felt—” Finn stuttered out, looking pained. He was clearly trying to articulate some truth of his own, but Poe was too scared to hear it. He couldn’t stand to hear some kind of apology, some kind of let-him-down-gently.

“Finn, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, over Finn shaking his head desperately. “I wanted to help you. But that’s why we can’t continue on with this. It was selfish of me. You deserve something _real_.” He grimaced as he said it, trying to stop himself crying.

“No,” Finn said, something fraught in his voice. He was looking up at Poe pleadingly. “No, you’re not _listening—_ you’re not hearing me—I’m trying to tell you that I—I feel the same way.”

His eyes were huge. Poe, for his part, blinked down at him stupidly. His brain could not compute the words that had just been spoken. All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. He felt as if a bomb had just been detonated near him and now all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing.

“Don’t,” he said, hardly aware of what he was doing, “don’t say that just to make me feel better.” His body was vibrating, disbelieving, strung-out and shocked.

Finn shook his head, eyes shining. “I realized it after I got home from the first mission,” he said quickly, breathless and sweet. “I don’t know when it started, exactly, but with my track record—” He broke off with a sheepish smile.

Poe barked out a slightly manic laugh, and grabbed at Finn’s hands to steady himself.

“What are you,” he asked shakily, “what are you saying?” He felt like a bottle of soda that had been shaken and left to fizz over, like all the blood had rushed to his head.

“I’m saying that I love you,” Finn said simply, and Poe blinked rapidly, unable to process the idea. His brain was working overtime, trying to take in words he never thought he’d hear from Finn. Words he’d hoped for years he’d hear.

“You love me?” he asked, quietly, almost absently. “You want me?”

Finn nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Finn, I—” Poe began, completely at a loss for words, squeezing at Finn’s hands like they were the only thing tethering him to reality. His heart felt like it would burst before it could fit all the joy and confusion and wonder he was feeling. He looked at his friend, this man who _loved him_ , with deceptively steady eyes. “Finn, I have nothing to offer you. I have no money, no house, no family, nothing. It’s—it’s just me.”

Finn smiled gently up at him. “I _know_ ,” he said. “That’s all I want. I don’t need anything else.” He reached up and cradled Poe’s cheek gently in one palm, and Poe closed his eyes at the warmth of his touch. “You’re my home. _I love you_.”

Poe’s face crumpled at those words, the pain of all those endless nights, all that desperate longing, breaking like a wave over him before finally, finally settling. He began to cry. His heart felt like it had been split open, but he could see something blooming from it, like flowers through a crack in the sidewalk. He grabbed Finn’s hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss into the palm, shaking.

_I have been burning for you_ , Poe wanted to say. _I am still burning for you_.

Instead, he said, through tears, “You have no idea how I have wanted to hear you say that.”

Finn smiled softly at him and moved closer, stroking Poe’s face with his other hand. “I love you,” he said again, quietly, and leaned in to kiss Poe.

Poe, mind still reeling, kissed back desperately, wanting to show him, finally, just how much he was loved. Finn pulled back a moment, smiling, and Poe leaned his forehead against Finn’s tenderly.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Poe said, laughing a little disbelieving laugh.

Finn just smiled and kissed him again.

***

Finn felt dizzy, like he’d stepped too close to the edge of a cliff, as he cupped Poe’s face with shaking hands. He wondered if Poe could tell how adrift he was, how at a loss, to be kissing someone he loved.

Stupid. He’d been so stupid. The answer had been in front of him this whole time. Why had it taken him so long to see?

Poe’s kiss turned a little more demanding, a little more feral, and Finn recognized it from the night of Jannah and Lando’s homecoming party. He remembered thinking, then, if Poe was trying to show him how to kiss like you loved someone, and wondered now how many times Poe had told him how he felt, with a touch or a kiss or a glance.

“I’m sorry,” Finn gasped, breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry I never saw, I’m sorry I asked you to—”

“Forgiven,” Poe said, absentmindedly, moving to kiss along Finn’s jawline. “Forgotten.”

“God,” Finn said breathlessly. “I’ve been trying to hold myself back these past few months, been trying to tell myself we could be friends—”

Poe caught his mouth in a scorching kiss, backing off only to speak lowly.

“Don’t hold back, now, please,” he murmured, “Don’t you dare hold back now.”

Finn brought his hand up to Poe’s face, and ran his thumb gently along his cheekbone. Poe’s eyes were wide and dark. Finn leaned forward and kissed him gently, soundly, unaccountably nervous. His blood roared in his ears in the quiet of the room. Poe’s hand, floating up around Finn’s hand, grasped at the air, lost.

Finn could tell that Poe was letting him take control of the kiss; he could practically feel him shaking with restraint. He raked his hands through Poe’s hair, trying to get him to react, but succeeding only in eliciting a pleased whimper from him. 

Finn wanted to get closer, to be as close to Poe as possible. He raised himself up and sat down in Poe’s lap, his weight resting on his knees, his thighs spread across Poe’s legs. Shy, suddenly, he looked at Poe to check if it was okay. Poe, eyes dark and wide, simply swallowed thickly and kissed him again, placing his big hands on Finn’s hips.

“Fuck me,” Finn breathed, when they broke off for air. “Please, fuck me, please.”

Poe abruptly stopped kissing him, and Finn felt his stomach drop.

“Hold on,” Poe said, voice rough. His jaw was clenched with poorly constrained emotion. “Please tell me this isn’t still about being normal—because I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “No!” he exclaimed, horrified. “No, fuck, no, I’m sorry—I wasn’t—I wasn’t thinking when I said that—I just want—I just want to be close to you.” He looked down at Poe and bit his lip. “I just want to be close to you, that’s all. We can do anything you want.”

Poe looked up at him with a considering expression. “You were really just going to have me fuck you, thinking that I didn’t love you?” His voice was laden with concern.

Finn looked away from Poe’s eyes, and smiled guiltily. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “One last time.” He dared a glance at Poe, and he was looking back, his eyes warm and soft.

“No more of that,” he said gently. “Not between us. Not anymore, okay?”

Finn nodded.

“Just promise me,” Poe said, his voice resolute but tender, “promise me that you really want this. Want _me_.” He was hiding insecurity, there, and Finn wanted to kiss it away.

“I promise,” Finn said softly.

Poe gazed up at Finn softly.

“God, there’s so much I want to tell you,” he said. “So much that you need to know.”

He looked at Finn a moment with hooded eyes, looked at him like he was a man too starved to eat, and kissed him with the same near-unbearable gentleness he’d used when they’d first kissed. He was shaking, his eyes squeezed shut. Finn encouraged him, nipping lightly at his bottom lip, and Poe slowly came to life, drawing him in and deepening the kiss. It was lovely, plush and hot and slow-burning, and Finn felt half-dazed by the time Poe broke it off.

“I’ve wanted—so long,” Poe said, edging toward frantic as he pressed kisses into Finn’s neck and collarbone, the hollow of his throat. “Jesus. Jesus _Christ_.”

Finn responded by making as huge a mess of Poe’s hair as humanly possible, letting the heat of Poe’s body sink into his skin like a warm bath. He felt himself getting submerged deeper and deeper, warmth like a home-cooked meal, warmth like an open flame, warmth like being reduced to ashes. Poe’s hands begin to work at Finn’s shirt, exploring as they traveled downward, smoothing over the muscles of his chest with a hunger Finn had never thought anyone would have for him. A hot mouth followed the roaming hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any patch of skin available, and finally licking at a nipple until Finn was squirming in Poe’s lap.

“God, I can’t even believe this is happening,” Poe said into his chest, shoving Finn’s shirt off his body entirely. “You’re so gorgeous. So gorgeous. I’m gonna make you feel so good, I’m gonna show you. I want you so badly, so badly, you have no idea.”

His words were making Finn sweat. “You’re—chatty,” he managed, as Poe scraped his teeth lightly over his other nipple.

“Sorry, it just sort of comes out,” Poe said, looking up guiltily. “I can—I can stop—”

“No, no, I like it, you just never used to.”

Poe swallowed and straightened up. He said, a little guiltily, “I was—worried what I would say.” He nuzzled their noses together, all conspiracy. “Worried you would know. Worried you would—figure it out.”

Finn kissed him, then, open-mouthed and dirty, desperately trying to get closer. Something frantic had risen in his chest at Poe’s words, and it growled, demanding its due.

“Please,” he said, “Please fuck me. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He started to shift his hips haphazardly against Poe’s own, his cock pressing into Poe’s belly. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. Poe’s mouth was momentarily slack with shock and pleasure, before responding with a scorching kiss. His hands moved down to Finn’s hips, shifting him so that Finn’s arse rocked against his own cock. Finn broke off the kiss to give a choked moan, trapped between the two sensations, unsure what to do with himself. 

He kept rocking his hips until Poe stopped him, grabbing at the back of his neck and rubbing the rough edge of his stubble against Finn’s cheek. Finn felt overheated and lost, drowning in a sea of sensation.

“Bed,” Poe said, and Finn disentangled his legs with surprising speed and coordination. He grabbed Poe’s hand and dragged him toward his bunk.

Poe, frazzled, dark-eyed, his hair sticking up in every direction, looked like every one of Finn’s dreams distilled into one image. He smiled, and sat on the bed, dragging Finn down for another kiss.

“I love you,” Finn said. Poe laughed, high and joyous and weightless, and Finn didn’t think he’d ever heard him laugh like that before.

“Take your pants off,” Poe demanded, already working at the buttons on his own shirt. Finn complied, periodically stopping to kiss Poe, unwilling to stop touching him for a moment. Poe moved backward, now only in his briefs, and Finn followed, in the same state of undress. Somehow Finn was in Poe’s lap again, and they kissed luxuriantly, hands roaming all over, heat rising between the two of them like a tropical storm. Poe’s cock was a hard line against Finn’s arse and Finn wanted it inside him so suddenly, so fiercely, he almost doubled over with it. Poe was palming him through his briefs, his hand firm and inescapable.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asked, breath hot against Finn’s cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, please,” Finn panted, wrapping his hands around Poe’s neck.

“I’ll give you what you want, anything you want.” His voice was all gravel, and there was a note of melancholy to it that made Finn kiss him hard.

“Want you, I just want you,” Finn said, aware he was practically begging but unable to stop.

Poe moaned, and his hands moved down past the waistband of Finn’s briefs, groping at his arse with the air of long-satisfied desire. Finn grunted into Poe’s neck, something thick and hot rising in his chest. He felt helpless and flayed open, vulnerable. Oddly at Poe’s mercy, but not minding much past the initial flush of embarrassment.

“Lube,” Poe muttered. “Need lube.” He bent to one side, towards the nightstand, groping blindly for the little drawer. Finn continued to kiss him, uncaring of his mission, and Poe got lost in it for a moment, his questing hand returning to Finn’s arse absentmindedly.

Finn broke the kiss, grinning and breathless, and dragged his briefs down his legs and threw them on the floor. Poe, dumbstruck, simply stared a moment, before he eventually gathered himself enough to find the lube and open the bottle. He poured some into his hands, rubbed a bit, and reached around Finn.

“Tell me how you’re feeling, okay?” he asked quietly, rubbing with gentle hands at Finn’s hole. Finn nodded, already losing it a little at how good it felt, at how much he loved the soft, adoring look on Poe’s face. The first finger went in easy, and Finn kissed Poe lazily as it pumped inside him.

“Another,” Finn said, breath already coming short.

Poe obeyed soundlessly, staring up at Finn. Finn closed his eyes at the stretch, pressing himself back onto Poe’s fingers with a little moan.

“Fuck, look at you,” Poe murmured, bending his head to lick at Finn’s collarbone. He began to scissor his fingers and Finn dropped his head to Poe’s shoulder, biting back a whimpering sound. His cock brushed insistently at Poe’s stomach, and pressure like a hard ball concentrated in his lower stomach. Poe kept on talking, low and near-incoherent, as he worked. Finn felt wound tight and fucked open at the same time, a delicious contrast that set him shaking.

“Oh, god,” he gasped.

Poe added some more lube, sliding a third finger in him so smoothly that all Finn registered was pure pleasure. Finn was squirming now, all hot wet desire, panting as Poe fucked his fingers into him. He’d forgotten how big they felt, so much _more_ than his own, so much better than when he touched himself late at night.

“That’s it,” Poe cooed, “Just like that. You’re doing so well.” 

“Please,” Finn said. Poe knew what he was asking, he had to.

“Just a little longer,” Poe replied. His voice was even, gentle, if a little stretched thin, but Finn only had to look at him to see how close to losing it he was. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

Poe continued to finger him, adding a bit more lube as he went, until Finn was little more than a heap of boneless desire against his chest. It must have been only minutes, but Finn could have sworn to hours. All the while he clutched at Poe desperately, unsure if he could take much more but unable to orgasm, his body hot and cold all over. Poe, breath ragged, continued to murmur dirtily into Finn’s ear, his cock jostling into Finn’s thigh with every thrust of his fingers. It was too much. Finn felt too slippery-wet, too open, pushed until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Sweat dripped down his back as he clenched and unclenched helplessly around Poe’s fingers.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, please, Poe—I need—I can’t—”

Poe must have heard something in his voice, because he immediately pulled his fingers out, prompting a sad little noise from Finn, saying, “I know, I know,” in a soft, fond tone. He moved Finn off his lap and shimmied his own briefs down. His cock bobbed up, blood-red and heavy, and Finn stared at it for a moment as Poe reached over for the lube.

Finn’s eyes widened as Poe smoothed the lube down his length, hissing slightly at the sensation. “Jesus,” Finn muttered, unable to look away.

Poe looked up, then, eyes tilting manic, and bit his lip. He motioned soundlessly, a quick wave of his hand, for Finn to come closer. Finn practically fell over himself to obey, so keyed up he thought he might die, lost in nerves and excitement and some terrifying feeling that made his insides feel bright and jumbled. Poe smiled as Finn settled into his lap once more.

“You ready?” he asked lowly. One of his hands moved to Finn’s arse, and Finn could hardly respond for the roaring in his ears. He nodded instead, his heart thudding in his chest. Poe pecked at the outside of his mouth, and guided his cock to the rim of Finn’s hole with his unoccupied hand. Finn helped him, dazed and terrified, but unable, and unwilling, to stop the freight-train momentum of his desire.

Poe’s cock felt enormous, blood-hot and huge, bumping against his slick hole insistently. Poe, eyes fluttering shut, used his hand to circle his cock gently, making Finn spread his legs wider with impatience. Practically shaking, he pressed his forehead against Poe’s. Finn felt like the bottom of his stomach was about to drop out.

Gripping Finn’s thigh with the other hand, Poe pressed inside gently, the head catching slightly before slipping in. Finn grunted, the sensation too much and somehow not enough. It was a bit strange, but not unpleasant. Poe had prepared him so thoroughly that it didn’t hurt, but it felt overwhelming, like Finn could fly apart under Poe’s hands.

“Alright?” Poe asked, eyebrows knit with concern. Finn nodded, grabbing onto Poe’s shoulder tightly to ground himself. “Breathe into it. You’re doing great.”

“Just—stay—stay right there,” he ground out.

Poe nodded back, face tight with some emotion. Every muscle in his body felt tense and Finn felt a surge of trust and gratefulness at how patient he was being. He always let Finn set the pace, even when Finn was hurting him.

“O—okay,” Finn said, panting. “You can—you can move.”

Poe smoothed a hand across Finn’s back and thrust in a little further.

“Yeah,” Finn grunted, jerking Poe closer so he could nuzzle his neck.

An inch, and another, and Finn felt _impaled,_ too-full and overheated, trapped on Poe’s cock. He spread his thighs so wide that his knees began to shake, and Poe was kissing him soothingly, whispering soft words to him that he wasn’t totally understanding. He was too busy swimming through the rushing sensations, up to his neck in the overwhelming stretch and heat, flushed and shaking.

After what felt like an age, Poe was fully seated inside him, looking a little strung out himself, his hands smoothing all over Finn’s body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he was saying, his hair endearingly crazy. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Finn gasped, “Yeah.”

Poe pulled out slow, then, and if Poe being inside him was too much, his absence was worse, somehow. Finn felt hollowed out and empty, and immediately wanted him back. He reached behind him to find Poe’s cock as it entered him again, wanting to feel it go into him, slippery and hot and thick. Poe groaned thickly at Finn’s hesitant touch, and suddenly Finn was full again.

“Oh, god,” he breathed. He found himself pushing back onto Poe’s cock helplessly. Poe began to thrust in earnest, still measured but with intent, now. He gathered Finn to his chest and continued to thrust, smooth and deep. Finn could hardly stand the heat, like he was being pried open and scorched from the inside, and yet he never wanted it to end. It somehow felt—it somehow felt _good_.

“Oh, fuck,” Finn said, his voice high and desperate.

“That feel good?” Poe asked, smiling and out of breath.

“Yeah,” Finn replied weakly, “Yeah, feels—” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, a thrust brushing his prostate teasingly.

“You’re so good,” Poe was saying, “better than I even imagined, absolutely perfect—”

Finn burrowed further into Poe’s arms, letting Poe take him, unable to stop the sounds coming from his mouth. Poe responded by clutching onto him even tighter, so tight he could hardly move, and saying things like, “Yes, just like that, you’re so good,” and, “Jesus _Christ_ , so fucking tight, you feel so good,” and, “I love you, God, I’ve wanted you so long.” They were pressed up tightly against one another, kissing wet and hot every now and then, both incoherent and lit up like live wires.

The pressure continued to build in Finn’s stomach, his arse clenching around Poe’s cock, until he could hardly stand it, and he began to beg Poe, “Please, please, I need, please—”

Poe seemed to blearily understand, and kissed Finn soundly, starting to work at his cock with a firm hand. Finn, lost, thrust back onto Poe’s cock and forward into his hand, his expression almost pained. He was on the edge of orgasm seconds later.

“That’s it,” Poe ground out, “Come on my cock, just like that, come on.”

“Yeah, fuck, yes, Poe,” Finn sobbed, hardly able to speak. The pleasure strangled at him like a physical presence, muscling its way up his spine, and the only thing he could do was moan silently into Poe’s shoulder. The ball of pressure tightened and tightened, until everything was clenched wet hot pleasure, and Finn’s orgasm rippled through him like tremors from an earthquake. His hips thrusted uncontrollably, erratic and sloppy, cock going off onto Poe’s stomach, and his arse throbbed around Poe’s cock. He felt lost in a haze of drunken pleasure, like he was being shoved this way and that by ocean waves. Poe kept on fucking him through it, thick cock holding him open as he shivered and moaned. The string of words, now turned sweet, continued: “You’re gorgeous, you feel so perfect, please, please.” 

Finn, coming down, wasn’t sure what Poe was begging for, but was sure he would give him anything in this blissed-out state. Poe had gentled his thrusts, looking up at him with concern, and Finn, feeling warm and sated, smiled dopily at him and kissed him gently. It was been so different from what he had been taught it was.

“Can I—?” Poe asked, hands digging into Finn’s hips to the point of pain.

Finn nodded. “Yeah, please, I want it, come in me, please,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Poe’s neck as Poe began to thrust again, a desperate edge to it this time. “You’re mine,” he murmured, playing with the hairs at the nape of Poe’s neck, running his hands through his dark curls. “You’re mine.”

“Yeah, yes,” Poe confirmed frantically, seemingly trying and failing to be gentle as his hips pistoned into Finn. It hurt a little, Finn feeling oversensitive and exhausted, but he didn’t mind, and simply held Poe tighter. They were essentially hugging, now, as close as they could possibly be. Finn grappled at Poe’s back, trying to get even closer.

Realizing the soft little gasps Poe was making meant he was edging toward orgasm, Finn tried clenching, experimentally, and was rewarded with a ragged moan from Poe. He did it again, and again, Poe’s cock relentlessly pounding into his stretched hole. Moments later, Poe stiffened, grunting, his hips moving in stuttering, erratic circles, and Finn felt a gush of warmth inside his arse. Poe leaned his forehead against Finn’s, panting heavily. They stayed that way a moment, locked in each other’s embrace.

“You…okay?” Poe managed after a minute, dropping sideways so that they laid, entangled, on their sides. He smoothed his hand back along Finn’s temple tenderly and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Yeah, it was nice,” Finn said shyly. They kissed again, slow and soft, both of them dazed and a little overwhelmed.

Poe said, “Lemme see,” and probed a finger softly around Finn’s hole. Finn flinched a bit, still oversensitive. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said, drowsiness overtaking him. His eyes fluttered between wakefulness and sleep.

“I should get something to clean us up,” Poe said, going to get up. “Can’t be comfortable for you…”

“No,” Finn said petulantly, locking his hands around Poe. “I like it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Poe said, nibbling softly at Finn’s jawline.

Finn smiled dopily. “I love you.” He nuzzled into Poe’s neck.

“I love you, too, bud,” Poe murmured, and Finn could hear the wonder in his voice.

“Don’t call me that,” he drowsed.

“We’re still buddies, aren’t we?” Poe asked, kissing gently at Finn’s neck between chuckles.

“Buddies who have loving sex with each other? Isn’t there a word for that?”

“Hmm,” Poe said, “Are you my _lover_?”

Finn made a face, and opened one eye to peer at Poe. “That sounds weird.”

Poe, after a moment, said, quietly, “You said I was yours, when—”

Finn nodded, smiling. “ _That’s_ it. That’s the word I was looking for.”

Poe laughed brightly, glancing his nose along Finn’s. His eyes went warm and serious.

“How did you learn, all by yourself, to love someone so well?”

“Who said I learned it all by myself?” Finn asked, stroking Poe’s face gently. “I watched you. All I had to do was watch you.”

Poe smiled, and kissed him softly. He paused and looked at Finn with a baffling fondness. Finn couldn’t resist tangling their limbs together.

“You’re the one who taught me, really,” Poe said softly. “You showed me how to be brave, how to really be brave.”

Finn quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

Poe nodded. “I was always too scared to fall in love. Never could put my heart out there. And then I met you, and you were risking your life to escape, putting your faith in _me_ of all people,” Poe said. “I took one look at you and thought, ‘I’m not leaving without him.’”

Finn chuckled. “That’s funny,” he said, “because I took one look at you and thought, ‘I will follow him wherever he goes.’”

Poe huffed out a pleased laugh and pressed a kiss to Finn’s forehead. Finn snuggled in closer, sleep-soft and warm, and inhaled Poe’s scent. He could feel Poe’s heartbeat thumping along steady and true.

How silly they had been, fighting against the undertow when all the while it had only been trying to show them the way to the shore. They had resisted and resisted, so afraid of drowning, unable to give up the illusions they had clung to like lifesavers, never realizing that dry land was only a few yards away.

Now, finally exhausted, the tide had set them gently onto the sand, breathless and wonder-struck. They fell asleep within moments, pressed close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna miss these two softies.  
> Thank you all for taking the time to read! I hope you enjoyed!!!


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